Life of Ruins
by Ikeris
Summary: This story is being merged into Trial By Fire, a story by Python862. Check it out!
1. READ ME

Author's Note:

Hello everyone, Ikeris/Scion here. It has come to my attention that this story, and where it's going, has taken turns and eddies that, quite frankly, I'm quite displeased about. All of the characters have already been merged into Trial By Fire, a story by Python862. Python and I did this nearly on accident, but as it turns out he's better then I am at writing Erylian and character development in general. So until further notice I will hand over my characters to Python and he has agreed to add me as a co-writer for his story. The basic plotline, that is Erylian's return to humanity, will be a sub-plot inside Trial By Fire or it's sequel. Rest assured that the story's essence will be included and improved upon in Python's story.

Those of you who enjoyed my story, please head over to Trial By Fire and the stories leading up to it. I certainly enjoyed it and will delight in writing for it!

Hope to see your reviews!

Ikeris


	2. Awakening

**Life of Ruins**

My name was Erylian. I was a human born to a happy mage couple. Ah, I remember my childhood; running around Stormwind, gawking at the heroes on their enormous mounts and ever-so-glowy weapons. That life is behind me, and although I yearn to go back, I cannot. If I try to walk into Stormwind I would be killed on sight. Why? I am no longer human. Gods, I wish I was human again. Not some half-rotted walking corpse. The dream of going back is my drive that takes me to this desolate place. This horrible, violet wasteland. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

My story begins at the Battle of Mount Hyjal. I was an Alliance mage of Stormwind, come to Hyjal to defend the World Tree from Archimonde. I was one of the last mages to fall. Our defenses were overrun, and I saw the scourge coming towards me. Hurling balls of ice and fire from each hand, I damaged and killed many, but was soon overtaken, and I was silenced. I remember little about my life. The last thing I truely remember is my... awakening.

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The mage woke with a start, trying to yell, but not remembering how. He sat up, and his legs spasmed, but he could not walk nor move otherwise. His eyes glanced around wildly, only to realize he could not feel the muscles moving. Yellow light had filled his sockets. His jaw was intact, thankfully (seeing as it wasn't uncommon for the lower jaw to be 'misplaced'), but there was indeed a small hole in his cheek. His eyes darted to the figure standing over him in dark robes and recoiled instantly, his gag reflex would have triggered had he still had one. A flayed and diseased hand pressed firmly against his chest and pushed him down on his back again.

"Whoa thur', friend. Woke wit a bit o' a start, but if ya just relax a bit I'll tell ya exactly what's goin' on." The man's voice was hoarse, as if he needed desperately to clear his throat, so he tried to do so and succeeded in dislodging a bit of flesh that was blocking his windpipe. His voice was a bit better, but still raspy.

_'Okay, definately time to calm down. Okay.. okay. I'm okay. Let's see what I can do..',_ the mage thought.The mage attempted to flex his fingers and at least got the muscles to respond. With that he would have nodded if he could. If he can get that much then full mobility is possible. His mouth moved, but was unable to produce any words. His voice box, apparently, had been ripped out long ago.

"Jus' talk. Dun try to use your voice, just say somethin' and it'll come out. Dunno quite how it works, jus' that it do." The obviously less-then-intelligent man smiled (Strange, a walking corpse smiling) and nodded.

"Wha…. What…. Where am… I?" The mage studdered out and his eyes widened. He hadn't really said anything, just thought his words and moved his mouth. "How…."

"Relax, friend, I'll explain everythin'. Nearly forgot ya in that crypt, found ya at th' end o' th' hallway unda' a pile a' bones. Some weird lookin' coffin. Heard ya scratchin' at th' cover."

He continued with this babble and the mage nodded slowly through it. He slowly sat up, the remains of his muscles stiff with rigor mortis and lack of use all these years. The mage's eyebrows shot up suddenly and he stared at the other man.

"What… what's your name… and what's mine?" His eye sockets widened in the revelation. He didn't remember his name…

The nameless mage stood up and looked at his arms. He was repulsed immediately. He looked like some sort of cadaver, his still-working muscles showing in some places and the bare bone visible in some spots. He closed his "eyes" and waited for his stomach to stop rolling, until he realized he doesn't have a stomach. Not a full one anyway, looking down he saw a large gash across his stomach and it looked like someone had stuck their hand in his entrails and pulled out, and possibly eaten, part of his stomach. With a look of disgust (easy for him to pull off, he thought sourly) he gently pushed his entrails back into his belly. The entrails were still visible, but at least they were inside him now. He was revolted.

Sighing, the mage opened his eyes and looked at the similarly mutilated man standing in front of him. He looked slightly concerned.

"Eh, as far as I know, an' that ain' much, you 'ave no name. Mine's Havery, atcha service!" The man smiled. "I'm ta' take ya to 'er now". He nodded again and gently grabbed a hold of the mage's arm.

The mage's brow furled. "Her?" Curious and a bit scared, he shook off the hand clamped on his arm, only to be sickened by the fact that Havery was now holding a piece of his flesh in his hand. Smiling, Havery simply handed the flesh to the mage. The mage just stared at it.

"All in good time, friend"

He dropped the chunck of flesh. Eww.


	3. Revelation

The mage blinked.

Havery blinked.

"Do you..?" The mage started. Havery laughed uproariously.

"No, I dun know ya name. None 'o us do when we come 'round. The Lady gives us our names. I need 'ta take ya to 'er now."

"Erm… okay." The mage attempted to stand, but quickly crumpled. It was as if his legs didn't know how to hold his weight. Havery sighed slightly and grabbed hold of the mage's arms, hoisting him up.

"Move ya legs, try 'ta get 'em to work right." Havery said, obviously practiced. The mage nodded slightly and stole a look at his legs. The skin was gray and dirty, the bone was showing in some places. He did the equivalent of gulping and attempted again to stand, focusing on the remaining muscles and learning to compensate for the lack of certain others. After a small while, he was able to stand and walk a bit awkwardly.

"Thas' good. Now follow me, we'll go see 'er." Havery expertly strode out, and the mage clumsily stumbled behind him. He had to put his hand on the wall several times to steady him, and when Havery wanted to go through the forest, the mage frowned, which was pitifully easy. He chuckled slightly in his head at that thought.

"Alright, alright. Let's go then." The mage gained a bit of confidence, took a step, and his right foot found a ditch, breaking his ankle and landing his face down into a stinking puddle of mud. Havery burst out laughing, doubled over and nearly falling over. You could almost see the stomach muscles move as Havery laughed. After a short while, Havery helped the mage up and grimaced at the ankle.

"'Kay, no prob." Havery bent down and righted the ankle. The ankle snapped lightly into place, the bone righting itself, but the skin remaining broken.

"Hard 'ta really damage us Forsaken. Bones right 'demselves no problem." Havery smiled as the mage's eyes remained wide as he stared at his ankle.

"Hmm. Fascinating… instantaneous magical repair of the bone structure." The mage smiled and tried to think of how this was done. He came up with nothing, and was slightly delighted. No more sprained ankles!

Havery blinked once at the amount of big words in that sentence. He shrugged slightly and pulled the mage to his feet. "Come, friend, we gotta hurry!"

Havery started to run. What he failed to realize was that the mage didn't know how to do that yet. He stumbled a bit, attempting to run, and after a few minutes he succeeded. Havery was way ahead of him, and in a direction that the mage hadn't paid attention to, so he went off in the direction he thought Havery went. Naturally, he went the wrong way. After a good four to five minutes of running, (his muscles were so damaged that running didn't damage them in the slightest), he came across a small clearing. Walking to the middle of the clearing, the mage spotted several pairs of glowing eyes on the corners of his vision. When he turned to look, they vanished into the trees. The eternal night of this place started playing with his vision, so he thought, because he hadn't seen any creatures yet and if there were that many they would be hard to miss… he was very wrong. Within a minute he was completely surrounded by slavering dog, or what once resembled dogs anyway. They barked hoarsely, and off key to that of a normal dog. They were bright purple with red eyes. Red eyes… like that of a demon. One of the images he remembered was that of the red eyes of a demon combatant. He had killed that combatant, but remembered the eyes. The mage slowly backed up, only to hear snarling from behind him. He grimaced as the largest dog came forth and poised to attack. The dog jumped. The mage shoved his hands up to his face, as if to protect himself, and instantly an enormous wave of fire exploded from his body, annihilating the dogs and setting many of the trees aflame. The ground was dead black from the force of the explosion, and the mage staggered at the sudden fatigue that wracked his body. He groaned, and attempted to gain his footing. The ground was very hard when his face met it.


	4. Avatar

**Disclaimer: Yep! It's true! I don't own World of Warcraft, or any of the names, save Avatar and Havery. **

The mage awoke to being poked by something hard.

"Groan."

"You up?" He recognized Havery's voice.

"Groan."

"Erm… you gots'ta get up, or she's gonna be mad!" Havery poked him again.

"Groan." He cracked his eye open (he later found out that he literally _cracked_ his eyelid after further inspection) "What are you talkin' about?" The mage blinked a few times and sat up slowly.

Havery leaned on his stick as he squatted down. Watching him squat was rather amusing, seeing as the muscles needed were either 'missing' or otherwise in bad shape. Havery smiled. Kind of.

"Well, ya need 'ta go see 'da Lady." Havery kept smiling, "She'll name ya."

"Groan." "Okay, okay, gimme a second." The mage stood up slowly and put his hand against the wall. His robe was in tatters, which is only slightly worse then what it was when he woke up, but is worth mentioning. It was charred around the edges as if he had had a fire around his ankles. Hmm.

The mage looked down. "Erm, what happened to my robes?"

Havery grinned big, cracking one of his lips. "You used a spell! I didn't know you was a big mage!" Havery nodded and smiled.

The mage simply blinked. His eyes, mind you.

Havery pulled him away from the wall. "Come on! We gotta go see 'er!" Havery pulled the mage down the hall at a surprising speed and brought him to the Royal Quarter. The mage gawked at the sights along the way, especially at the glowing green river in the middle. He passed a man (for lack of a better term, he wasn't sure for gender) that was fishing in the green stuff. He caught something and whooped. Then his shoulders drooped, and you could hear him say "Catfish… always catfish, why can't anything else live in…" And then he was pulled again.

Havery and the mage were stopped by an armored man. He put his hand out much like a gryphon traffic controller.

"Stop, do you have permission to see The Lady?" The guard was steel-faced and his hand completely unmoving.

Havery nodded emphatically and smiled big again, aggravating the last injury.

"Yup, she's expectin' us!" Havery nodded again.

The guard sighed and put his hand down. "Alright Havery, but if you try to convince Her to try and make Dwarven the official language of Undercity again…" The other guard snickered slightly, but stopped immediately when his companion glanced at him coldly.

Havery nodded and passed on through, passing several more pairs of guards on the way. The mage attempted to nod at one of them, and with receiving a cold stare, he hurried along and attempted to whistle a small tune to him. This is not easy with a hole in your cheek and half a tongue. He sighed, dismayed.

Havery walked slowly to the raised altar where a proud, once elven woman stood. Her cold blue eyes pierced both Havery and the mage, and they were forced to their knees. Havery's voice took on a bit of sophistication.

"Honorable Lady, my greetings." With that, he stood and gave a graceful bow. The Lady nodded slightly. "I bring the magician you asked for, he is a Newborn and knows not of our customs. He has less memory of.. before then usual." Havery's eyes were only for the Lady, as were the mage's. She was garbed in a black ranger outfit that reminded the mage vaguely of the outfit of someone he was very close with. A ranger outfit, strikingly similar. What was her name? He couldn't remember.

"_You. Mage. Do you remember your former name?_" The room seemed to chill with the coldness in her voice. Both her eyes were trained on him and seemed to penetrate the tatters remaining of his soul.

"N…no… no, my Lady." The mage was in awe. "I remember very little."

The Lady nodded. "_My name is Sylvanas Windrunner. I lead The Forsaken. We were once under the Lich King's control, but we regained our consciousness. You are now one of us. Your name is now Avatar, as you are to be my magician advisor. Welcome to the Forsaken, Avatar._"

The newly named mage, Avatar, nodded, knowing how important this was. After a few moments, Havery fidgeted nervously. The Lady Sylvanas glanced at Havery.

"_You may return to the cemetery, Havery. Your punishment is not nearly finished._" The Lady almost seemed to sneer at saying this. Havery gave another deep bow and left briskly. The Lady frowned slightly at the lack of any sort of goodbye. With a small sigh she motioned one of the guards to her. The guard got down on one knee for a moment, then stood.

"Yes mi'lady?"

"_That man Havery is to have another year added to his sentence. See to it._" She rarely tolerated disrespect.

"Yes mi'lady", the guard answered automatically and left the room.

Avatar stared at the Lady in a mixture of awe and fear. His hands, his nails clawed from the nears of nail growth in his coffin, scratched over each other as he nevously clasped and unclasped his hands. An old habit from his prior life, only before he would mingle fire and ice between his fingers unknowingly until the cuff of his robes either caught fire or shattered from the frost. Needless to say, he had many, many robes in his wardrobe. Slyvanas saw this and gave that same customary frown, and a thought played across her features.

"_Avatar, go to the magicians and relearn what you can. If you remember anything else you are to tell me immediately._" The Lady made a similar dismissing motion as with her guard.

"As you wish, mi'lor… mi'lady." His eyes widened as he realized what he almost just said. He hurried out of the room and down the hall. Sylvanas' eyes flashed at this and ran her finger over the odd-looking sword strapped to her thigh.

Varimathras appeared as if out of nowhere next to Sylvanas. He had his arms crossed.

"Milady, what have you need for another mage? Better to be done with the scum." Varimathras looked at the Lady expectently.

"_Foolish Dreadlord, that Forsaken knows so much. Notice how he was wringing his hands? A nervous habit from his old life. No Forsaken remembers those types of things. There's something about him."_ Sylvanas seemed troubled.

"_This is extraordinary. Of the Forsaken only he and myself know our old lives."_ Sylvanas nodded slowly to herself, still fingering the blade slowly.

Author's Note:

I finally figured out what I was missing in these chapters. An author's note! Yes, Avatar is special, like I said, this is no standard Undead story. Jus' dun ask me questions, I'm wingin' it as I go along. Havery was funny to make, truthfully, he is completely fictional. His accent is a Southern-kinda accent. I was gonna give Avatar a New York accent like myself, but no one wants a New Yorker mage running around and 'misplacing' pieces of himself. That's just unfair. Oh, and I was either going to name him Avatar or Firesworn, and I figured Firesworn was too cheesy to keep writing. Just wait. His name matters a great deal. Review and brutalize me, people! I need some good input here!


	5. The 'Meat' of the Matter

The undead mage looked at Avatar with an expression that he realized was shock. He was getting better at reading facial expressions from people missing faces.

"_Firebolt_??? Are you joking? That spell hasn't been used for _decades_! I thought you were some sort of Hyjal mage." The undead mage trainer crossed his arms and eyed Avatar. Avatar simply shrugged.

"Gimme a dummy and I'll show you." He seemed quite sure of himself, but in all honesty is knew very little about his abilities. He basically would just wing it.

The trainer chuckled a bit. "Alright then, we go outside. You want a target dummy? Let's see if you can beat me in a mage duel." The trainer cracked his knuckles/claws and started walking towards the elevator. Avatar followed smoothly with his hands behind his back, trying vainly to keep his eyes away from the amazing city around him. Looking like a child in Stormwind, gawking at every sight, would be a bit degrading to how people saw him. Once they both entered the elevator, the trainer hit a button and the elevator vaulted upwards. Walking past the two patchwork horrors next to them the trainer smiled and waved at them.

"Afternoon Bob, Krark." The trainer smiled, and Avatar followed suit. It was hard to tell if the two Abominations were happy to see them, as their faces were stuck in a perpetual grin.

"Afternooooooon" They both said, raising a meat cleaver in greeting.

Both mages continued through several convoluted passages and stonework, they came upon the throne room, of which Avatar put his hand on the trainer's shoulder.

"A moment, just a moment."

Avatar kneeled down in front of the throne and bowed his head. He gave a small prayer to The Light and gave his respect to the fallen kingdom of Lorderon, his former home.

The trainer sneered. "Worshiping a fallen throne? No king to pay your allegiance to, Avatar. Must you need a master?"

Avatar simply smiled, and put his hands in the sleeves of his robes, a habit from his old life to hide annoyance. He barely noticed this, but these small gestures were starting to surprise him.

"We shall see, trainer."

Both mages grinned. Avatar took up his position on one side of the throne room and the other mage on the other. The trainer went through a series of buffing spells. Arcane Intellect, Ice Armor, Dampen Magic, and the like. Avatar simply smiled and drew an arcane rune in the air in front of him. It looked similar to the Dampen Magic rune, but slightly sharper. In a moment it was gone, and the other mage had been too distracted to notice it. The trainer claimed to be a master of mage-vs-mage battles.

Avatar smiled and nodded to the other mage. The other mage nodded, noticing his opportunity, and shoved his hands forward in a _Fire Blast_. Avatar braced himself and the rune he cast in front of him took the brunt of the blow. Avatar smiled again and started moving his hands in a very familiar pattern, obviously from his pervious life. The other mage watched Avatar's combination of forces, and his eyes widened when he realized what was going to happen. He quickly activated his _Fire Ward_ right before a laser-like _Firebolt_ slammed into his chest, burning straight through his robes and burning out his chest. The undead mage fell to the ground, dead.

Avatar watched as blue energy wrapped itself around the dead-ish mage. It filled his chest and repaired all the damage, but left the hole in his robes. After a moment, and a thank to The Light for dueling spells, the mage stood up shakily and looked at Avatar with an impressed grin.

"Okay, go ahead. Gloat. And when you're done, tell me what the HELL that was!" The other mage was actually quite pleased. Most mages are at the demonstration of new magic.

Avatar laughed. "You said that my _Firebolt_ was old, but no one ever protects against an old spell. Good thing you brought up your _Ward_ or you would have been completely _Ignited_. That's what the spell is designed to do, spread through the body at screeching velocities and…" Avatar suddenly trailed off and his eyes clouded.

Suddenly Avatar was back on a mountain summit, surrounded by green grass and trees, with many familiar battlements and bunkers littering the landscape. The black wave of death down the path that laid waste to the Night Elf encampment was encroaching.

Avatar grimaced. If the Night Elves fell, then they didn't have a snowball's chance in Blackrock Mountain to stem the tide of The Undead Scourge. Going through a series of empowering spells for himself and his men, he braced himself for the fight of his life.

Avatar, the leader of the Stormwind Mages Guild. The only man alive who could dual-cast. He remembered there was some speculation of High Elf blood in his line, but he had none of the physical traits, so it was nothing more then speculation. What he did have, however, was a strange 'addiction', if you could call it that. Double exposure from dual-casting caused his body to become dependant on arcane, fire, or frost energies for bodily function, but much, much less then the poor Blood Elves. No one knew this, of course, because Avatar could pull, or 'tap' as the Blood Elves called it, into the energies he channeled for what his body needed. The last thing his guild mates needed was the illusion of weakness in their leader. Avatar cast this walk down memory lane away as he prepared.

"Here they come! Get ready men!" One of the footmen yelled, and every single footman in a line raised their shields simultaneously.

A few seconds later, there was an inhuman yell and an undead ghoul smashed the footman's shield aside and pulled the man's arms off, armor and all, and started to eat them. Avatar was revolted and annihilated the disgusting ghoul in a blast of fire. With the other hand, Avatar let loose a freezing wind with his hand, knocking back and chilling a group of skeletons and ghouls coming from his flank. Once they got close enough, he created a shockwave by igniting the very air around him, knocking the bones apart from the skeletons and tearing limbs and pieces from the ghouls. The head of the skeleton still chattered, and Avatar crushed it with a clean, blue boot.

This continued for a while more, throwing more and more intricate spells, everything from a _Firebolt_ that jumped to other targets or penetrated straight through, to chaining entire platoons of undead to the ground and calling a meteor down to destroy them.

One time, an enormously grotesque squad of Abominations ran towards him, swinging their chains about. After a moment of concentration, the ground beneath them exploded in an enormous triple pillar of fire. The swirling firestorm left a patch of scorched earth where ever it touched. Almost immediately after, he pulled down ice from the heavens and impaled hordes of undead with the sharp particles.

Finally, after hours and hours of this, Avatar was utterly exhausted. His mana reserves were dangerously low, and the undead just kept coming. He started to try and fall back, when he realized he was the only one. Looking around the battlefield, green grass turned red and black from blood and fire, his comrades in various pieces on the ground, agony written on their faces from their last moments of life. All his guild mates, all his soldiers, dead. His eyes widened, and he felt a claw rip through his stomach, leaving an enormous gouge. With a snarl, Avatar released a laser-like _Firebolt_ from his hand. The fiery energy entered the screaming ghoul's body, and at the apex of the glow, it exploded.

Avatar fell to the ground, panting and looking at his stomach. He vainly tried to stop the bleeding, his hand pressed hard against his stomach… and what looked like his entrails from coming out. Undead were surrounding him, and in one final protest, he let loose an enormous _Blast Wave_ which knocked back a good amount of the undead. His last sight before his death was a ghoul pulling out his entrails and eating them greedily.

Avatar woke up with a loud yell. He stood up and struck the nearest figure to him, which was the mage he had just dueled with. The trainer quickly restrained him and started talking over his yells.

"AVATAR! It's alright! You just passed out, calm down!" Avatar, after a few moments, finally calmed down and started taking deep gasps. He looked at the trainer, his eyes wide. The trainer let him go and Avatar stumbled to his feet, grabbing hold of the throne to steady himself. Avatar closed his eyes and slowly came back. He nodded and looked at the trainer, his chest still heaving, but now relatively calm.

"Thank you. Ugh, what the hell happened?" Avatar let go of the throne and straightened out his robes. He looked down his robe and saw the scar, not to irritated as before, but was relieved not to see his intestines falling out.

"You were explaining that spell you used to me and you suddenly fell over unconscious. Wait, Avatar… didn't you have a hole in your cheek?" The trainer looked puzzled.

Avatar looked at the trainer and raised an eyebrow. Slowly, he put his hand up to his face and felt a smooth surface, unblemished and unflayed. His brow furled as he looked at the trainer.

"Do Forsaken usually…?" Avatar looked bewildered.

The trainer stared at Avatar, and simply shook his head.

"You. We're going to the doctor. Now." The trainer grabbed Avatar's arm gently, as if afraid to break him. He guided him back down the elevator and across the city to the first aid area. An undead nurse, as ironic as that seems, told Avatar to sit down. The nurse had huge spikes of hair, a blotched white-gray robe and a slack-jaw look on her face. The nurse was able to speak just fine, apparently.

"And you're saying that there was a hole there?" The nurse gently poked the pink-ish skin with a claw. Avatar winced, then realized that he very barely felt any kind of pain in his body, save for where her claw was.

"Hey, that DOES hurt ya know!"

"It what?! That skin produces whole pain signals???" The nurse was now excited.

"Strip down, we need to see if this has happened elsewhere."

Avatar looked at the nurse. "You're kidding right."

The nurse looked at him and sighed.

"I'm a nurse, hun, I've seen it all before. Now strip." The nurse made the trainer leave the room and looked over the now-naked Avatar. If he still could have blushed he would have.

The nurse inspected every part of the embarrassed Avatar, even his nether regions, which made the pink skin on his cheek flush a deep red. The nurse sighed when she had checked him over.

"Strange. No where but your cheek. Ah! At least this stomach wound has fully sealed. Usually takes a good few months, how long has it been?" There was barely a scar on his stomach.

Avatar blinked at the nurse. "I was resurrected earlier today."

Now it was the nurse's turn to blink.

Neither of them knew quite what to say until the nurse put together a few scraps of paper and gave them to Avatar.

"Give these to our Dark Lady Sylvanas, she has ordered to be given notice of all undead regeneration." The nurse nodded slowly. "We may need to run some tests. You may be the Gods-send we've been waiting for, mage. You may hold the answer to the end of the undead." Avatar stood up and put his old robes back on. He looked at the nurse.

"Just one more step back to human." Avatar smiled, sort of, and walked out. He walked down one of the roads parallel to the green river, and after a few minutes he realized he was lost. He spied another abomination.

"Hey! You there, where is Sylvanas' chamber?" Avatar looked up at the abomination's eyes.

"Dark Lady be across river." The abomination moved on, not even looking at Avatar.

"Erm, thanks…" And with that, he waded across the river and down a few paces, to find the same two undead guards with the same expressions as before.

"I come bearing notice of undead regeneration" He held up the papers and pointed to the small patch of pink on his cheek. The undead guard's eyes widened slightly and ushered him through quickly.

Sylvanas was conversing with her Dreadlord when Avatar walked in. He stared at the enormous demon in an expression of surprise and mild fear, which is what Dreadlords are used to. The Dreadlord looked at Avatar, and Slyvanas' eyes followed.

"_Yes? What is it?_" Slyvanas' cold eyes locked on Avatar, and he quite suddenly naked. Those piecing eyes tearing right through him. He handed the papers to Sylvanas gingerly, keeping his distance from Varimathras.

"I, uh, bring notice from.. the.. um.. nurse about… undead regeneration, mi'lady." He slowly showed Sylvanas his cheek, his eyes darting from Varimathras and Sylvanas.

Sylvanas' eyes widened. She quickly hid her surprise and looked at the papers. She beckoned Avatar come forth and she poked and prodded the small patch of flesh. Finally, she took out a small dagger and slashed across the length of the skin, leaving a red streak. Avatar gasped in pain and put his hand to his cheek. Fresh red blood slowly seeped from in between his fingers, and Sylvanas' eyes widened in surprise.

"_Blood. Undead have no blood, undead have ichor in place of it. You, Avatar, are regenerating… but that's impossible. Tell me what happened before this._" Sylvanas crossed her arms across her chest, waiting.

Avatar fumbled over the next few words, but quickly got into the rhythm of his story. He told Sylvanas about the duel and the spell he used, which she waved through the explanation. She had no patience for spell theoretics.

"_Yes yes, get to the other part. What did you see."_ She seemed to be waiting for something.

"Yes mi'lady. I saw myself on top of Mount Hyjal, I recognized the battlements, and we were preparing for battle. We fought and lost, and I died… I watched myself die, mi'lady." Avatar seemed slightly shaken, but he kept his hands in his robes to contain himself. Sylvanas noticed this as well.

"_Avatar, you are to go to Mount Hyjal and remember what you can. This is your charge. I will do what I can, come closer."_ Avatar kneeled down in front of her, knowing better then to stand. She placed her hand on Avatar's head and Avatar felt the same lurching, pulling sensation.

"Arise, High Magister." Avatar heard a voice from forever ago, Jaina, stood before him. Even though he was more powerful, she still lead the rebellion against the Scourge to protect The World Tree.

"You are to be on our first line, High Magister Erylian. With your unique abilities you must try your hardest to hold them back. Don't let them pass, Erylian. Destroy them with your… unique… abilities." Jaina smiled. Erylian smiled back and bowed gracefully.

"I will, mi'lady. My deepest thanks, my liege and dearest friend." Erylian smiled and bowed again, then walked back along the path.

Erylian walked slowly along the winding path, moving his fingers as well as his mind in the familiar patterns of his spell-weaving. He mentally went through every spell he knew: his famous _Firebolt_ to, known only by Kael'Thas at the time, the beautiful _Flamestrike_.

He smiled at the thought. He had been lucky to hear about the spell. Kael so rarely used it, although it was his pride and joy before Al'ar, his phoenix. Only after years of theoretical spellwork was he able to figure out how Kael did it. It was literally a firestorm, controlled in a specific area. The three pillars were designed to provide enough oxygen for the inferno, and thus the most efficient shape. If Kael knew that he knew this spell, he wouldn't live the week.

Before long, Erylian entered the camp he was stationed. It was a bit dismal, and every soldier had a look of defeat on their face. They were the first line. First-blood. And they all knew it. Erylian shook his head and took a deep breath of mountain air, then walked through the line, outwards so he could face them. Directly to his back was the Night Elf camp, not too far down the slope. They were failing.

"Men, the odds are against us. I'm not going to lie to you. We are the first and ONLY line of defense against the Scourge and our inner camp. Yes, we have more defenses. Yes, it's true Jaina will help the inner camps, but it doesn't matter. If they break this line, we fall. You are all lucky to defend, not just your country, but your own living soul against the ravage of the Scourge." At this point Erylian was yelling in passion.

"**SO STAND UP, MEN, PICK UP YOUR WEAPONS, DON YOUR ARMOR, AND PREPARE FOR WAR!"** Erylian had drawn his deep azure Mgeblade and faced the now-overrun Night Elf camp. The soldiers and mages alike all had the fire in their eyes of righteousness as they lined up, warriors in the front, mages in the back, priests behind the mages, fortifying the lines with their power.

The undead Scourge charged up the hill, yelling and screaming in both agony and unholy delight, and Erylian ran forward to meet them, his Mageblade glowing bright red as he thrust…

Avatar was shot out of his vision like a rocket. His hands were glowing with the same red of his Mageblade, and he fell to his hands and knees, groaning as his perception switched from his memory to the world around him. The still alien scent of the green goo river assaulted his nose, his eyes readjusted to accommodate the dim light of the Undercity.

The red glow released from his fingers in a mist and Avatar looked up, blinking. He noticed something slightly strange… then when he thought about it, it was much stranger. Those hands on the ground in front of him, fleshy and pink, there are no humans in Undercity… Avatar attempted to stand up and shot himself up to his feet, then feel on his back. There was way too much power behind those muscles, and he has ones he didn't have before.

Avatar locked his eyes, still glowing orbs, on Sylvanas and blinked with now-fleshy eyelids. He was completely human looking, save for his eyes. Sylvanas looked at Avatar with poorly masked envy.

"_You are not human, Avatar. You have your flesh back, but your insides and soul are still sundered. You must go to Hyjal to find out how to repair yourself, then you must come back and show us. This is your charge, my servant. I brought you back into this world, and now you must serve this purpose. End the Forsaken and make us whole."_ Sylvanas was known to be proud of what she's done, but a chance to live again? No Forsaken could pass that up.

Author's Note: Well now! Quite a long chapter, my longest so far. Told ya this story would have a twist, and now he's gotta get to Hyjal! Seriously, leave me a few reviews, this is only my second story, so be brutal, as always.

I gotta take stock now of what exactly Erylian/Avatar is going to go first. Soon he's gonna learn why he can regenerate and why the visions do it, so just hang tight people!


	6. Ressurection?

**Life of Ruins**

Avatar was standing in the mage quarter of Undercity. In front of him was a body-length mirror and he was inspecting his new outer shell. What a relief, he thought, I thought I was gonna stay a corpse until I died. Ha-ha.

Might as well go, he thought. He walked out of the mage's quarter and back to the priest's quarter.

The nurse needed to do another 'inspection' and this time all of his flesh burned red. The nurse chuckled slightly to herself and looked at Avatar.

"Alright, you check out. You're a lucky one, but I suggest you find a way to hide those eyes. There is no way you'll pass as a human with those eyes." The nurse had an envious tone in her voice, which was expected.

Avatar nodded. "Here, I can do this…" His glowing yellow eyes suddenly glowed a bright blue, then seemed to flesh out as blue eyes the same color as the magic.

"Just an illusion. Should hold unless someone gets too close." Avatar nodded and smiled to himself.

The nurse nodded as well. "Where are you going to go?" The nurse wrung her dirty robe absently.

Avatar looked hard at her. "I don't know", he replied. After a small cast Avatar was on a dark blue and black war tiger. It was his trademark in life. With a roar the tiger started running out of the priest training area and into the center of the Undercity. Some of the Abomination guards lifted weapons as the war tiger and the human came, but he quickly raised his hand.

"Bob! Krark! It's me, Avatar, let me pass!" The Abominations, in their silly grins, let Avatar passed and waved the goodbye with the arm attached to their backs. Avatar outright laughed and waved back as the elevator took him to the top.

Avatar and his tiger shot out of the Throne of Lorderon and down the path out of Undercity. He stopped for a moment and dismounted, the tiger disappearing once Avatar left his presence. Avatar seemed shocked for a moment, but then remembered that's supposed to happen and nodded. He followed the path he remembered back to the cemetery and the same old Forsaken was sitting there at the enterance to the crypt. He stood up quickly at the sight of a human and brandished his shovel.

"I'll get'cha, human!" The Forsaken swung the shovel like a sword. Avatar put up a hand and the shovel was pulled from the Forsaken and into Avatar's hand. The Forsaken overswung, having no weight in his hands and fell to the ground with an audible "Oof!"

Avatar stood above the bewildered Forsaken and smiled. "Hey Havery".

The Forsaken man looked up at him, completely confused. You could see the clockwork working in his head, then suddenly most of his face brightened.

"AVATAR!" The Forsaken man jumped up and hugged the mage.

Avatar "Oof-ed" as well from this crushing hug. A minute later the undead man let go of him and Avatar had the brush the fragments of flesh off his robe. Avatar smiled anyway.

"I've gone through some changes, man, and I gotta go. I just wanted to say thanks for resurrecting me, and you'll be the first one to be human again if I find the cure that helped me."

The Forsaken man's eye socketed widened. Avatar said quickly, "No, I'm not human. I'm still Forsaken, my soul and body are still messed up. But I look human, and I can drop the illusion" Avatar broke the illusion on his eyes to show him, "anytime I like to get into a Horde area. I will find what helped me, don't worry." Avatar smiled brilliantly.

"Well I'll be darned…" The undead man was speechless.

Avatar kept smiling. "I have to go, Havery. I need to get to Hyjal and find out what I'm missing." Avatar remounted using his spell and, after waving after Havery, left the crypt and Trisfal Glades all together.

Havery simply smiled and sat down next to his crypt, and not a few seconds later he heard shuffling from the crypt.

Avatar smiled as he let the lake water hit his new skin. Why take the road? His tiger was running on the lake without problems. He looked up and saw the beautiful sky starting to get brighter as he left the dismal Trisfal Glades. He remembered the lake to be larger the last time he saw it, and there was no fort up on that hill. I wonder if Southshore is still there, he wondered. Ah! Maybe Stromgarde! He smiled, satisfied to have a destination. Avatar guided his mount past the small islands and came across an enormous violet bubble that nearly knocked him off his mount with power. Immediately he came to a halt, his summoned tiger standing on the lake. Avatar gazed at once was Dalaran, and remembered that in order to protect the city this bubble needed to be made. He heard about it, but never saw it. Too bad it hasn't been lifted.

Avatar sighed slightly and rode past the bubble.

Wait… was that a human? Avatar rode his mount past the tree line and into the ruins just outside the arcane barrier. When he saw the human in purple robes he quickly re-created his arcane illusion and rode up to the mage.

"Hail, mage!" Avatar bellowed.

The mage turned around, a Fireball spell already in his hand. The mage chuckled and threw it at Avatar. Avatar swerved on his mount and the Fireball barely missed.

_Quickly quickly_, Avatar thought. He dropped his mount with a roll and created a Fire Ward to protect him from the raging ball of flame that had come around to haunt him. Spells never miss.

After the boiling Fireball was absorbed and the Ward had collapsed, Avatar stood from his kneeling position and faced the mage.

"Stop, mage! We are the same! I am named High Magister Erylian!" Avatar stood his ground and looked at the mage.

"How dare you claim the name of a hero! You will die, heathen!" Another Fireball and a Fireblast. Avatar put both his hands out and with one cast another Fire Ward and with the other a Cone of Cold to destroy the Fireball. The mage was also knocked off his feet from the force of the wind. Avatar walked up to the unknown mage slowly.

"Are you finished, or are we going to keep playing? Don't make me destroy you, Dalaran mage." Avatar displayed his power by holding raging and flaming Pyroblast in one hand and an altered Blizzard spell in the other.

"By God…" The mage stood dumbfounded at this display. "That's impossible! High Magister Erylian died in The Battle of Mount Hijal, it says so in our texts!" The mage's knees were obviously shaking.

Avatar fired the Pyroblast over the other mage's head and let loose a torrent of sleet from his other, brushing the mage with a small layer of frost. The mage's somewhat shaky Frost Ward protected him from the biting cold.

"What has happened to our beloved Dalaran? Why hasn't the Shield been lifted?" Avatar put his arms in his robes, looking at the mage with a blank look. The mage would be able to sense the arcane magic masking his eyes if the Shield wasn't throbbing with power.

"Sir, we can't break it or lift it. Some of the, ah, remaining Dalaran mages and I have tried, the rest of us are camped out in, um, Trisfall Glades, where the arcane interference doesn't break our security Wards." The mage gained some confidence as he spoke and slowly wrung his hands. The mage had several scars where he obviously burned or frostbit himself. Avatar was intrigued.

"Are you not a mage of Dalaran?" Avatar looked the other mage up and down.

"Erm, no, actually, I was an apprentice. I left Dalaran before the Shield came down and I've tried to teach myself the remaining things I lost. I don't know much", he said a bit shamefully, "but I know enough to keep myself safe. I was just trying to find a trigger rune or something along those lines when you showed up."

"You have a name?" Avatar forced his illusionary eyes to look into his. Concentrating on the illusion with all this interference was really difficult. God I hope it doesn't break, he thought.

The mage nodded. "Simonee", he said with a bit of pride. "I'm from Stormwind and was found to have magical ability at age 4. Burned the first teddy bear my parents gave me", Simonee grinned at the memory, "so they sent me to Dalaran."

Avatar nodded. "You already know me."

Simonee beamed. "YES! High Magister Erylian, the most powerful mage of all time! Lost in The Battle of the World Tree. You took out LEGIONS of undead single handedly! You last over two hours when all your comrades were already gone! You are the most amazing mage in all history…" The last thing Simonee said was something close to envy. Simonee smiled genuinely.

Simonee suddenly became sober. "High Magister… could I come with you? I'd love to be able to learn from you." He suddenly became uncomfortable. "Um, I know you might have better things to do then teach an apprentice mage, but just watching you would allow me to learn. I tried to do what you do," he held up his scarred hands, "but the spells wind up blowing up in my face, literally."

Avatar/Erylian cut him off before he said any more. "Simonee, I'll gladly take you on as my apprentice, but I really don't think you'll cast like me. Also, you need to know som-" Avatar was cut off suddenly by a strange feeling in his chest. The feeling shot up to his head and immediately Avatar was shot into a fit of absolute terror. He screamed out as his maimed heart attempted to speed up from the terror and his half-rotted brain attempted to shoot off synapses faster; the terror absolutely consumed him and the last thing he saw was a flash of gleaming golden metal and the word "Traitor…"


	7. The Light and How to Swing it

**Disclaimer: I don't own World of Warcraft. Don't sue me.**** I have no money.**

**Life of Ruins ****–**** Chapter**** 6**

"Saw him coming toward me…"

"…-Id he say anything?"

"Yes…. said his name… Erylian…"

Avatar came to slowly, drudgingly. He could feel a throbbing in his entire body that seemed to be radiating from his wrists and ankles. Strange, it was almost a subdued burning sensation. "Thank God" He thought as his vision started to come back. With a start Avatar realized that his arcane illusion had been lost when he had been knocked out. Without concentration the Shield had torn the magical construct apart.

"Uggnnnn…" Was Avatar's first words. The talking around him stopped immediately and everyone focused on him.

Avatar looked up and saw what that golden flash had been. A giant paladin was standing there with a glowing long sword in his hand. "Oh no…" He thought as soon as he recognized the armor.

The paladin smiled. "Welcome back to the land of the living, Forsaken. You really don't belong here, you know." The paladin's smile turned into a grin as he fingered his sword. Avatar looked around the paladin and noticed that he was back in the forest. Probably back where that mage… what was his name?

Avatar tried to jerk his arms, but they were held in place by bright white shackles which were chained to blinding white pylons coming out of the ground. The holy energy of the pylons and the chains was running down his arms, alternatively healing the new flesh and damaging it all over again. Obviously he wasn't undead, but he wasn't alive either.

Avatar noticed another person out of the corner of his eye. A white-robed Priest was standing there. The energy that was holding him was obviously being channeled from her. He could see the lines of power.

Avatar looked away from the priest and leveled his gaze at the paladin. "Where is Simonee?" he asked mildly.

The paladin kept wearing that stupid, arrogant grin. "Simonee is away. Locked up, just like you. I never would have thought it would betray us to a Forsaken. Ah well, friends always do that, right Olivia?" The paladin looked at the priest. The priest simply nodded.

Avatar thought for a moment. If he told the paladin his mission he might help… or he would wind up cutting me apart piece by piece by that nasty looking longsword. That so would NOT help the situation.

The paladin broke his thoughts. "Well, Forsaken, has the Apothecary come up with a way to make human disguises? You realize that it doesn't work against paladins. We sense the mutilation that is your soul, we see right through your mask." The paladin stood up tall and put his long sword in the ready position.

"Olivia, release him. Let's give him the benefit of the doubt and see if he can best me." The paladin put himself in his battle position. "Come on, Forsaken."

Avatar just looked at the paladin and sighed. "I don't want to fight you, Paladin. I'm on a mission to-"Avatar was interrupted by his shackles dropping and him falling straight on his face in the dirt. Avatar stood up slowly, still aching from the constant toll the shackles had had on him.

"Paladin let me explain myself. I am not undead!" Avatar fumbled for the correct words to make him understand.

"My name is High Magister Erylian." Avatar tried vainly to see if the paladin knew his name.

The paladin simply looked at Avatar with a level gaze.

Without warning the paladin rushed Avatar and swung his long sword at Avatar's head. Only his quick reflexes saved Avatar from losing his head.

"Wait!" Avatar dodged yet another attack aimed at his chest.

The paladin laughed heartily and simply sliced again and again, each time Avatar dodging with the paladin's swings just barely missing. The paladin grabbed his sword with two hands and it seemed to lengthen considerably. The sword was transformed from a longsword to a broadsword and the paladin gave a mighty thrust. Avatar Blinked at the last moment, allowing the paladin to overswing his target. The paladin, however, didn't fall on his ass like Havery, he simply used the momentum to turn himself around and run at Avatar.

Avatar looked at the charging paladin and sighed heavily. He flicked an arcane rune between his fingertips, almost playing with it, making alterations here and there. And when the paladin had crossed the distance between them, Avatar let it loose. The arcane rune flew into the air and latched onto the paladin, hamming him on the head. The paladin looked bewildered, but not hurt as he was hammered into the ground. The rune stopped when the paladin was chest-deep in the dry soil of Trisfall Glades. Avatar walked up to the mage.

"Do you yield?" Avatar put his hands in his robes and looked at the paladin.

The paladin spat on Avatar's robe. "Never to a Forsaken."

The paladin started to glow a deep gold and before Avatar could react a giant bolt of golden energy slammed into his chest. Avatar was thrown several yards back and landed, the breath knocked out of him. There was a large hole in his robe and the skin under it was seared and smoking from the Holy attack. The paladin weaved a Divine Shield around himself, pushing the earth away from his body and jumping out of the hole. With a yell to the Light, the paladin ran at Avatar once again. Avatar stood and scowled. He put one foot behind him, turning almost sideways while placing his hands at his sides. He started weaving his fingers back and forth, coaxing the flame into existence. The paladin either didn't notice or care, he just kept running on. The paladin was nearly up to Avatar when he finally released the torrent. The explosion ripped at the trees and the air in a fourty yard radius turned bitterly cold as the _Firestorm_ ripped through the air. A yard long wave of fiery heat splashed over the paladin and instantly incinerated him, leaving nothing behind but a half-charred book.

Avatar walked over to the blackened book and picked it up. "_The Light and How to Swing It"_. Avatar chuckled and dropped it back on the ground next to the once-gleaming armor.

Avatar was stride his war tiger mount when Simonee came running in from the inner forest. Obviously he had broken his bolds, seeing as there was still a noose of rope around his right wrist.

"Master Erylian..?" Simonee looked at Avatar a bit confused. "Where is…" his question stopped there. "YOU BASTARD!" Simonee raged at Avatar. "What have you done?!"

Avatar looked at Simonee and sighed. Before the young mage could retaliate he rode off as fast as the spectral tiger could.

Simonee stood where Avatar had left him. He walked up to the pile of incinerated armor slowly. Frost covered the ground around it and there was still a slight chill to the air, although the armor was still blazing hot and simmering the air around it. Simonee cast a small Cone of Cold on the armor and brought it down to normal temperature. He fiddled with the helmet for a little while and finally put it down.

"I'm sorry, Lightsworn. How ironic, a mage needing to avenge a retribution paladin." Simonee chuckled hollowly.

The priest Olivia, who had simply stood back and watched stood next to Simonee and smiled at him.

"I know Olivia. I know it wasn't your fault. Lightsworn always had the ego the size of Blackrock Mountain. He told you not to interfere, right?" Simonee looked at the priest.

Olivia simply nodded.

Simonee sighed. "Yeah that figures. We better go, I have a feeling the next time we meet Erylian we will need to be ready." The priest nodded again.

* * *

Author's Note: Hey everyone, hope you're liking the story so far. Been working really hard during Web Design class for it hehe. If anyone finds any grammatical errors or anything just throw me an email at and I'll get on it, seeing as spelling is one of my more horrible talents.

You thought Simonee and Avatar/Erylian would become buddies huh? I just got finished reading Steven King, I'm feeling sadistic. Muwah.

Well, I'll probably start the next chapter at home so I can finish it sooner. Reviews make me write faster


	8. Naked Mages Don't Go Far

**Life of Ruins – Chapter 8**

**Naked Mages don't go far**

Tha-thump-Tha-thump

Tha-thump-_crack_-tha-thump

The war tiger's every footfall was audible. The forests of Hillbrad had many twigs and such to be crushed underfoot. The crunching of the High Magister's mount broke the silence of the forest. Usually bears and spiders littered the forest but this part seemed to be completely quiet. A few times the tiger caught wind or saw the corpse of an animal, but unlike most tigers he had no appetite. Magical constructs aren't made to have appetites.

Avatar placed his hand on the side of the tiger's head and soothed him. Magical or not, his mount had personality. Relearning this beast was very important, and the tiger knew exactly what was different about Avatar. The magic about him was readable to an old friend such as the tiger.

As Avatar rode his bestial, magical friend he was working on a new construct for his eyes. The old one has fallen apart at the slightest magical interference, and if he got into another mage duel the illusion would be dropped instantly. He thought of using an editing _Polymorph_ spell, but then thought better of it. 'The last thing I need is to run around as a sheep for days on end.' He thought and laughed at the image his mind conjured. A sheep running around in robes, _Baaaaing_ the entire way. Heh.

Ah! Avatar placed the old illusion on and started changing it. Instead of requiring his power and concentration it would look like the eyes looking at Avatar, whoever was looking into them. And have it work on the energy around him. Also make him a bit harder to track. Excellent. Avatar enacted the illusion and it worked.

Avatar smiled and his eyes responded accordingly. Good. He's ready for an Alliance area. 'I just hope to the Light there are no more paladins', he thought as he cringed.

He could see Southshore through the trees and the guards stiffened as they saw him in the distance. Avatar could almost hear them removing their swords from their scabbards and get into a defensive stance. Once he came within actual sight distance, however, the guards seemed to relax. Members of The Horde can't ride Wintersabers. The tigers wouldn't allow them to.

Avatar rode right up to the guard who looked the most decorated.

"Hail, defender of Southshore. My name is Avatar, a humble mage from the old kingdom of Lorderon. May I enter your town?" Avatar's illusion eyes were working beautifully. They showed emotion perfectly and the eyelids even blinked in synch with his.

"Yes, you may enter. All travelers are welcome to Southshore. There is a ship leaving for Menethil Harbor soon if you want to catch it. It'll be the last ship for the next month or so." The guard had replaced his sword in his scabbard but had his hand on the hilt.

"No thanks, I'm actually headed for Stromgarde. I just stopped for supplies."

The guard looked confused. "Stromgarde? In the Arathi Highlands? That place has been raised for years now. Where have you been?"

Avatar's eyes widened. "Stromgarde is gone?! Who did this?" Fire blazed in Avatar's eyes and the illusion let it show. The guard's grip on his hilt tightened. This man was obviously a mage.

"The Syndicate. They are a rather new band of spies and thieves and their keep is to the northeast. We've tried many times to destroy them but they kill everyone we send."

Avatar grinned. "I think I can take of that. My old comrades deserve justice. Let me pass." Avatar rode past the guard and into the town.

Avatar was still dressed in his charred, sooty, shoddy robes and had no weapon. This definitely had to change. Avatar looked at the bags attached to his conjured mount's saddle and found a purse filled with a couple gold and silver coins. It would have to do.

A small shop with a sign depicting a roll of cloth came into view and he guided his mount to it. He dismounted, willing the tiger not to conjure. The tiger nodded as if he could hear Avatar's thoughts and lay down next to the doorstep, idly licking his paws.

Upon entering the tailor looked up from the strange purple-pink cloth he had found.

"Ah! Hello. I'll be right with you." The tailor smiled.

Avatar nodded and took a look at the cloth in front of the tailor. It was a strange silk-like cloth that seemed to shimmer at the edges. When the tailor moved the cloth off the counter a small strike of lightning passed to one of the bolts in the wall, turning it slightly red. The tailor scowled and put the cloth in a huge black box and threw a cup of water at the bolt. The water sizzled and the bolt cooled.

"How are you doing today, sir? What can I do for you?" The tailor put his hands on the counter and gave Avatar his full attention. A small humming could be heard from the box the tailor had placed the cloth.

"Yes, I'm looking to have a full set of armor made for me. I am a mage and my last set got a bit… messy." Avatar pulled at his dingy robes ruefully.

"Well, I can make almost anything. The cloth you just saw was Imbued Netherweave, and was very hard to create. It requires a very powerful mage to tame, or I've heard of robes incinerating their own mages! What caliber are you?" The tailor looked at Avatar expectedly.

"Uh, caliber?" Avatar gave the tailor a confused look.

"Oh you know. Frost, Fire or Arcane and then your measurement level." The tailor was leaning on one arm and fingering a piece of silk on the table.

'Um.." Avatar just looked at the tailor helplessly.

"Here. I know a quick fix. Put on your Fire Ward, I have a piece here that might reject you and give us a rough estimate." The tailor walked into the back and brought back a small square of cloth in a similar black box. Avatar drew the Fire Ward rune in front of him and activated it. A dim red shimmer covered his entire body, bracing for a fiery attack. Once the tailor had put the box on the table Avatar picked it up.

The piece of cloth burned red, and then yellow, and then a searing white, but still Avatar's shield only took minimal damage. Avatar closed his hand over the cloth and it lost the glow but still seemed to simmer.

"Ahh, good. Apparently you can handle Fireweave. That's measurement 40 stuff. Not too bad. Let's see if I still have some in stock…" The tailor walked into the back again and came with another box. He closed the Fireweave box and put it on the shelf.

"Okay, go ahead and pick that up. I hope you know how to deal with burned, that's Sunweave." The tailor put on engineering goggles and donned a black robe with red lines through it.

Avatar picked up the cloth and it immediately tried to shoot fire up his arms. The Fire Ward weakened slightly as the red hot plasmatic fire licked at the energy of the ward. Finally Avatar closed his hand again and a small miniature star boiled around his hand. The Fire Ward weakened dramatically but held as the star was consumed by the Ward. The cloth continued glowing after the star was absorbed.

The tailor looked at Avatar and grinned. "Whoa! What a lightshow, you're a bit more than I expected. That was measurement 70 stuff; usually mages don't get more powerful than that. Only Magisters do. I wonder…" The tailor grinned evilly. "Can you handle my best?"

The tailor placed the Sunweave on the shelf next to the Fireweave and bent down to pick up the larger box. When the tailor opened the box, smoke came out of it as the Imbued Netherweave was unveiled.

"This is the most powerful cloth in existence. The only reason it burns up my store is that no mage has been able to tame it without seriously hurting themselves. If I can find someone to tame it, I would _gladly_ make the robe for no more than 7 gold pieces. This stuff is enchanted to the brim and nearly makes itself!" The tailor grinned again. "Give it a shot, mage. Let's see if I get to see the impossible today."

Avatar grimaced. If the cloth seriously damaged him his undead part would show easily. His humanity is only skin-deep and he could feel the magic in the cloth pulling at the illusion on his eyes. Thankfully it was holding nicely. What did he have to lose? He could burn his way out of Southshore if he really had to.

"All right. Let's do it." Avatar activated every single defense he knew and thrust his hand into the box. The cloth gripped his hand greedily and wrapped itself around it. Avatar could feel the cloth ripping fire and frost across his defenses, trying to find a way in. Avatar grit his teeth and threw everything he had at his ailing defenses. They were starting to slip, this barrage was too broad. His eyes burned or froze with each defense he fortified and his breath was either blazing smoke or chilling mist. Finally the cloth seemed to let go of his hand slightly and Avatar attempted to pull it back. The cloth came with the hand and it wrapped itself around his body, seeming almost liquid-like as it rippled and rolled across his figure. There were no seams and no stitching, the cloth _melted_ together in alternate designs of mist-throwing blue and blazing hot reds. The red cloth actually simmered the air around it, giving Avatar the appearance of being on fire. Finally the cloth settled and the glows dimmed.

The tailor was completely dumbstruck. He said nothing and didn't move. The small black box that was in his hand fell to the ground with a dull _thud_.

Avatar looked at the tailor and smiled. "So what do I owe you for this?"

The tailor still didn't move.


	9. Ambush!

**Life of Ruins – Chapter 9**

**Ambush!**

Avatar threw a gold coin on to the table of the still bewildered tailor.

"Thanks a bunch. I'm sure these will do nicely."

He smiled at the tailor and left without another word. His tiger friend stood up and nodded at Avatar. Avatar nodded back and started walking towards the blacksmith's right across the street.

The lady blacksmith was hammering an ornate looking axe on her anvil. It was the same color of gold but each time the hammer came down the dent it made was barely noticeable. Avatar put his hands in the sleeves of his new robes and smiled to himself at their softness and warmth. Funny, the side of the robe that was facing the forge was cool against his skin. Must be the frost in the robe.

The blacksmith turned around and looked Avatar up and down.

"You dun look like a warrior. You some sort'a mage?"

The blacksmith twirled her hammer expertly in her hand and put it in a case attached to her belt in one fluid movement.

"Yes, I was wondering if you had any staves or wands for sale."

Avatar said and looked the blacksmith up and down. She was quite a beautiful woman, this blacksmith. A skimpy looking shirt and overalls with the belt attached. Her bust was nearly bursting out of her clothes. Avatar could easily let his eyes wander and only let the illusion show his eyes on hers. Just another perk of being a mage.

The blacksmith crossed her arms and leaned on one leg, popping her hip.

"Well, I got a few, but nothin' a mage lookin' like you would be interested in. There's an enchanter up the road, she's an old recluse so ya probably not gonna be able to get to her, but you can give it a shot."

The blacksmith turned around and started hammering on her axe.

"Well an enchanter is no use without an item to enchant. What's that axe there?" Avatar threw his chin out at the axe.

"This? Oh this thing. Yeah, some old mage left it behind. Said he didn't need it anymore and I could do with it what I would. Was pretty beat up when he gave it to me so I figured I'd work on it." The blacksmith motioned to her hammer and her anvil.

Avatar thought he felt something. Was a familiar feeling but obviously not familiar enough to be from his new life.

"Can I see that?" Avatar's hands left his robe and went to grab for the axe.

The blacksmith smacked his hand with her hammer lightly and Avatar felt a few of the brittle bones just under the skin crack. The blacksmith eyes widened.

"By the Light! Are you okay?!" The blacksmith went to grab for Avatar's hand but he pulled away.

"Yes I'm fine... you just… ah… cracked my knuckles that's all." Avatar held up his hand and showed her. Thank the Light the skin hadn't broken! The bones had repaired themselves quickly and the blacksmith grabbed Avatar's hand. Her brow furled and she looked at Avatar.

"You're gaunt as a skeleton! When's the last time you ate?" The blacksmith let go of his hand.

Avatar chuckled slightly inside his head. Skeleton indeed. "A few days, it's okay. I'll get something from the inn-"He was interrupted by the blacksmith's laughing.

"Yeah okay, mage-boy. The least I can do is offer you dinner after nearly breakin your hand. And don't you say no, you're comin' if I gotta drag your fiery ass myself!" The blacksmith grinned and Avatar laughed.

"Alright, I'll come. Here, I'll wait here." Avatar sat down on a stool against the wall and watched the blacksmith work. She was so beautiful, her exaggerated curves moving into every blow of her hammer. Her eyebrows pushed together and her eyes completely focused on each and every slam of metal on metal and she beat the axe into shape with her hammer. Avatar could see small blacksmithing enchants on the hammer: Invulnerability and a few physics-editing spells. Increasing the force of the hammer or negating the weight for the gentlest of blows. She could smith jewelry with such a hammer.

She lady blacksmith grinned and looked back at Avatar.

"Enjoying the view are we?" She was belt over her anvil and her behind was right up in the air. Avatar was caught staring at it. He turned red immediately and looked away, smiling ruefully.

The lady blacksmith laughed and put away her hammer with a flourish again.

"Alright, let's get outta here. Don't wanna be out after dark, not in this town." She seemed frightened and Avatar was immediately filled with a feeling of protectiveness.

"Don't worry; I can protect you without a problem." Avatar stood up from the stool creakily and stood in front of her with his chest puffed out. He looked foolish, so she laughed. Avatar laughed with her.

Finally they both stopped laughing and just looked at each other, smiling.

She made the first move. "Come. Let's go home." She grabbed his hand with a surprising gentleness and led him out of the forgery with the axe in the other hand. Avatar smiled at her and held her hand back. He seemed to forget that he wasn't human for a moment. He felt normal, like he belonged.

After a short walk through the woods they came upon a small cottage right under a canopy of an enormous tree. Avatar gawked at the massive tree and looked at the lady blacksmith.

"This is amazing! Who built this?" Avatar was smiling.

"I did. Built it with my own two hands. Used the tree as a foundation, a druid came and asked the tree if it would be okay and the tree said yes. She's protected me ever since." The blacksmith smiled and her eyes twinkled at the memory. She opened the door and let Avatar in with her.

The cottage was relatively small; only three rooms. Bedroom, kitchen, living room. There was what looked like a large bench against the wall that was made of gnarled wood with amazing whirling and twisting patterns. The walls of the cottage were made of wood and the ceiling was straight wood as well. The entire place was immaculate.

The lady blacksmith sat down on the table with a huge sigh.

"So, mage, what's ya name?" The blacksmith crossed her arms and put her booted feet on her table.

Avatar looked at her. He wasn't sure whether to use his real name or the one Sylvannas have him. He figured he better be on the safe side.

"I am Avatar of Lorderon. I was… _am_ an Alliance mage for… um…" Then he knew he spoke too much. "I am a mage of Stormwind." Avatar nodded.

The lady blacksmith nodded. "Okay, Avatar, I am Krystal of Ironforge. Born there and learned my trade there. Came to Southshore to try to make a livin' and wound up only making a fool of myself." She smiled ruefully.

"A fool of yourself? Nonsense, blacksmithing is an honorable trade." Avatar smiled back.

Krystal returned his smile and the two just looked at each other for a little while.

This sentimental moment was interrupted by the sound of gunshots and screams. Avatar shot out of his seat and conjured an Ice Barrier around both himself and Krystal. Krystal picked up the axe and got into battle-ready stance. They both walked outside cautiously and looked around. They both relaxed slightly when they saw no one around, then an arrow struck Avatar's Ice Barrier. The Barrier buckled under the force of the arrow but held. The black-clad man was seen knocking another arrow and letting it loose. Avatar _Fire Blasted_ the arrow out of the air and ran towards the man. Avatar knocked the bow out of his hand as he attempted to knock yet another arrow and the man just as quickly pulled out a wicked looking dagger. With a snarl the man shoved the dagger through Avatar's Ice Barrier and under Avatar's ribs, twisting the dagger once it went in. Avatar only felt the pain on the layers of skin the dagger punctured, but he still staggered backwards at the blow. Green glowing eyes stared at Avatar in triumph, and then went dead as Krystal buried the golden axe into the back of the Blood Elf's neck.

Krystal dropped the axe and ran over to Avatar, who had fallen down. She kneeled down and put her hand over the wound.

"By the Light! You've been gutted; did it hit any internal organs?" Krystal went to put her finger in the wound to check for damage but Avatar grabbed her hand quickly and stopped her. The damage she would find had nothing to do with a small dagger wound.

"No, no I'm okay. I just need to cauterize the wound…" Avatar lit a fire at the end of his finger and quickly ran his smoldering digit over the wound. The skin seared and turned slightly black around the edges of the wound as Avatar closed off the gaping hole in his belly. Avatar was slightly chilled by the memory of his slashed stomach when he was resurrected.

Krystal looked worried. "We really should find a priest, or maybe a paladin. Get you healed up." Krystal went to pick him up but Avatar's eyes went wide and pulled away from her.

"NO! We will be NOT seeing a priest and we BETTER not find a paladin!!" Avatar was slightly panicked.

Krystal was completely confused and gave Avatar that 'What the hell are you talking about' face.

Avatar just grimaced and slowly started to stand. "I'm fine…" He started, then fell down on his face as the poison on the dagger knocked him unconscious.


	10. Captured!

**Life of Ruins** **Chapter X**

Captured

Erylian came to with familiar chains attached to his wrists. He knew that burning sensation, but where as it from? His forever-open eyes focused and he saw a golden shackle around his wrist. The flesh beneath was phasing between being damaged and repaired by the Light magic they were created in. He could feel the floor rocking, as if the world were spinning. The brief sound of surf came to his ears. A boat. He was on a boat. Erylian moved his arms and magic in the chains flared and a line of light moved from one of the shackles to the other end of the room. The man sitting in the shadows snatched the line and snuffed it out. As he stood up he came into the light and a Blood Elf face stared at Erylian. The normally green eyes burned yellow, obviously from this elf's exposure to Light magic. Apparently he found a way to feed his magical addiction on Light instead of arcane magics.

The priest was dressed in red silk robes similar in construction to Erylian's own. The designs didn't change, however. They stood stagnant, without life. These robes were made of normal Netherweave, not the enchanted cloth Erylian's was made of. Robes tell a lot about a magic user. Erylian had more power, but this priest could easily kill him. Erylian was exactly what this priest was designed to destroy. The undead.

The priest gave Erylian the famous Blood Elf gaze of arrogance and crossed his arms.

"Ah, the undead human has awoken. Welcome back to the land of the living. Not that you have ever been dead. Technically." The priest's voice carried no sign of malicious or sadistic intent. This put Erylian on guard more, however. An indirect foe was more formidable then a direct one.

Erylian said nothing. He simply stared at the priest with his yellow eyes. The illusion he had placed had been stripped off during his capture. He mentally tried to rebuild it, but the chains instantly brightened and seared into his mind, breaking his concentration. Erylian slumped, panting.

The Blood Elf frowned. "Don't fight, Erylian. I know your mind. I know what you're doing. It's a good thing I found you when I did. Your human friend was not so fortunate..." The Blood Elf pulled a stool up and sat in front of him. "If I break your bonds will you destroy my boat?"

Erylian looked at the priest and shook his head a few times. The man snapped his fingers, which echoed throughout the room and the chains fell to the ground. Erylian stood and looked at the elf. He was free now, should he take advantage of this?

"No, Erylian. Don't think you can take advantage. I can Shackle you again with a snap of my finger. Not that the snap is required, of course." The Blood Elf grinned and positioned his fingers.

"How do you know my thoughts, Sin'Dori?" Erylian's body language showed that he was wary but giving the elf the benefit of the doubt.

The Elf smiled and bowed. "Shadow Priest Zake Sunriot at your service. I go by the name Riot, if you don't mind." The Elf's side of his mouth curved up at the pun.

Erylian wrinkled his nose. Shadow Priests were never to be trusted. Always reading the minds of others and breaking those they can't read. Riot smiled wider as he heard this thoughts.

"You know I know you, Shadow Priest Riot. Where are we and what happened at Southshore?" Erylian relaxed slightly and the fire that was coating his fingers unconsciously dampened to a low simmer. The Shadow Priest sat down on his stool and looked at Erylian.

"Southshore was under attack by The Syndicate. The man that stabbed you I had been hunting for years. He was my brother." Riot looked pained, but continued. "Until he killed both our parents, took our fortune and joined The Syndicate. I was going to put him through hell..." The priest's eyes darkened. Literally.

Erylian listened to this and grimaced. He gasped. "Where is Krystal?!" He couldn't believe he had forgotten!

Riot looked at him, puzzled. "I don't know a Krystal. I know that The Syndicate took a woman back with them to be used as a wench. They do that sometimes. I would have attacked them but even corrupted priests such as myself have limits." The priest looked at Erylian curiously. "Why do you care about some human?"

Erylian grabbed the shoulders of the elven man. "We have to go back! She's being... being..." The thought was unthinkable. Erylian's eyes blazed. "Take me there or I'll bring me there myself." As he made this ultimatum his hands engulfed in flame. The flames weren't burning the priest. Yet.

The priest shook his head. "Why would I risk my beautiful boat for some _human_?" Riot sneered the last word so vilely. Erylian punched him in the face, leaving a fiery imprint of his knuckles on the elf's cheek. The elf was so shocked he just stumbled backward a few steps, then shadow began to engulf him.

His body's outline wavered, his eyes black as night. The energy of the Nether came off him in waves, slapping Erylian in the face. Erylian got into his battle stance and tried to find the center of the shadow. But Riot had become the shadows, and was nowhere to be seen in the dark inards of the boat.

"_Now you see what you are dealing with, little mage." _The voice came from the entire room. _"I own the shadows, I know your fears. I can break you, Erylian." _Just as quickly, Erylian felt a presence in his mind. Before he could react his body went stiff and his eyes burned brighter.

"_Let me see your mind..."_ Riot broke into Erylian's mind before he could do anything to defend himself.

"_Ahhh... yes..."_

Erylian tried to struggle but now he was falling through the floor. Falling deeper and deeper into black; falling into the twisting nether...


	11. Riot

Life of Ruins Chapter 10

The Mind of a Mage

Erylian fell face-down on the ground. It was a very hard ground.

"Oof." 

He just laid there for a while. Falling through the Twisting Nether had been quite a trip. He had the side-effects of a badly casted teleport: nausea, headache and the general feeling that his body was simply not put back together correctly.

Basically, a helluva hang-over.

"Ugh…. Where am I…?" Erylian rolled on his back and looked around. He mostly said that to himself, but someone answered never-the-less.

"You're here now." The figure said.

Erylian jumped up quickly, his plagued heart beating a mile a minute. He attempted to ready his most destructive spells: calling forth the powers of flame and frost, but nothing came. His hands remained empty and the glory of his spells did not fill his mind. Worst of all, his magical addiction that had been quenched by the constant stream of magic had started to dull him. He could feel it in his bones.

Erylian put up his fists and focused on the figure. As soon as he recognized her his hands fell to his sides.

Jaina stood in front of him.

"Mi'lady…?" Erylian didn't know whether to bow, salute or what.

Jaina smiled. The smile was beautiful. She always had a beautiful smile. But it never twisted at the corners…

"Yes, Erylian. I'm here now. It's fine." Jaina didn't move. Her eyes simply caught his. There was something wrong…

The smile darkened and those beautiful eyes glowed a sickly black.

"_But not for long, little mage!"_ Riot's voice came from Jaina.

"_I am going to break you in your own mind. You are silenced, little mage. You can't call any power to yourself. I can simply let you starve…"_ The shadow priest laughed.

"_Perhaps a taste…"_ Jaina/Riot thrust her/his hand forth in a familiar pattern. Fire Blast.

The concussive force and fire slammed into Erylian's chest. His robes took the full brunt without so much as a scratch, but his body had absorbed the magic from the spell like a dry sponge suddenly submerged in a lake. Erylian felt much better already.

"_That was your last freebie, little mage."_ Jaina made a strange symbol. It wasn't a symbol of magic: it was a symbol of the priesthood but horribly distorted. Erylian felt the spell slick over him like a choking slime, coating his mouth and eyes. He could no longer feel the magic in the air. His body was completely cut off, and he nearly cried out in anguish.

The Jaina/Riot simply smiled. _"I hope you're ready, little mage!"_ Jaina charged up a Fireball and threw it at Erylian. He dodged it, knowing it was hopeless but doing so anyway. The spell missed. Completely missed and smashed into the ground. 

Erylian almost smiled. He had a chance. He ran in the opposite direction. The sky was a whirling ghostly image. The Twisting Nether. Everything had a gray-ish color as if the Twisting Nether gave everything light. Erylian couldn't see more than twenty meters in front of him. Thankfully, twenty meters in front of him was an old building. It looked familiar… 

It was his old training school. He only remembered it once he saw it. He learned how to weave magic here. He honed his talents for years and became the mage he was today – minus a few skills he picked up on his own.

Erylian ran inside, slamming the door behind him. 

"No magic…" Erylian tasted the words on his tongue. Nope, he still didn't like them. His body was starting to slow from the stop in magical nourishment. Thank the Light he wasn't a Blood Elf – they could barely last 30 minutes without a dose of magic.

Erylian thought quickly. "Armory…" He muttered to himself and ran down the hallway. He really didn't know where he was going, his legs were running, and he was just following. They knew the way.

He opened another door and closed it behind him. Before Erylian was every single type of weapon known. Why a mage academy carried melee weapons he could never figure out, but it made sense for times like this. He had been trained in the use of single-handed swords, daggers and staves. After looking around, Erylian had found some hardened cloth implements he placed over his robes as well as an old Mageblade with a matching Spell Breaker buckler confiscated from a Blood Elf. His spirits soared; the buckler had spell absorption properties and was the only type of shield that could take a direct hit from a spell.

Erylian heard the front door close and small, padded footsteps on the stone floor. She was here, but he was ready. Erylian calmly walked out of the door and stood on the opposite end of a hallway from Jaina/Riot. Erylian shuddered slightly. This person was NOT Jaina. 

"_Ah, my little mage had gotten some equipment. Could you really fight the woman you once held so dearly? The woman you once secretly loved…"_ Riot's voice gloated. Erylian swore to himself and kept his hands still, no matter that they wanted to tremble. This was not Jaina.

Avatar bellowed loudly and charged Jaina/Riot. Two Scorchs and a Fire Blast spell ricocheted off the shield to the wall, where they smashed rock and shot debris over the charging mage. The shield worked perfectly! Erylian slowed down slightly once he got to Jaina/Riot so he could give enough power to his thrust. The Mageblade whistled through the air and slashed through Jaina/Riot's robes. The voice was Jaina's this time.

"Erylian! Stop! Don't hurt me!" The voice pleaded and tears came from Jaina/Riot's eyes. Erylian faltered slightly, and that's all Riot needed. Jaina/Riot thrust his hand under Erylian's shield and fired a charged Pyroblast right into Erylian's side. Erylian was blasted right off his feet and straight back twenty feet into a wall. A small crack in the wall appeared where Erylian had hit it.

The damage was extensive. Erylian's robe was blackened and charred. The armor he had put on had vaporized immediately. The robe in the area the spell had hit had stopped moving. He slumped down against the wall, his eyes locked on Jaina/Riot. Jaina's image melted as Riot walked towards Erylian. The nether energy came off him in waves again as Riot resumed his shadow form. Riot was grinning ear to ear and his black eyes were locked on Erylian. 

"_Looks like you lose, little mage, I've had my fun."_ Riot placed his hands on Erylian's head and yelled out an inhuman sound which echoed in Erylian's head. Terror gripped Erylian, he dropped his sword and shield and any plans he had been trying to make were shattered. What if Riot Shackled him again? What if he smote him with the power of the Light? Holy Fire could burn him!

But then Erylian realized. This priest was in shadow form. The terror fell away at that realization. Then a thought occurred…

Erylian fell to the ground and quivered, as expected as someone in the throes of ultimate terror. The shadow priest walked towards him dramatically, each footfall leaving an imprint of shadow energy for a few seconds. Erylian acted like the terror was increasing as the shadow priest came nearer. He let out a small whimper, to his embarrassment. All a part of the plan…

Riot stood right in front of Erylian, his eyes and body basking in the energy of the Twisting Nether. He was so enthralled by his own greatness that he never saw or felt the arcane energy slowly coating Erylian.

Riot put on a soothing voice. _"Don't worry, little mage. It's okay now. I'll put an end to your toment…"_ Riot readied the final blow to Erylian's mind that would shatter him. Erylian stood up, giant balls of white-purple light in his hands which branched up his arms and over his entire body. Then all hell broke loose.

The ball of arcane energy around Erylian seemed like a defense at first, so Riot simply increased the power of his Mind Blast. Before he could react he finally realized that this was no defense…

The Arcane Explosion ripped out from Erylian faster than an Alliance Gryphon at full speed. The bright purple explosion ripped the stone walls apart and shot them outward. The roof of the structure was shorn off and fired into the air, and the purple wall of arcane magic slammed into Riot like an overweight drunken goblin rocketeer crashing into a small boy. 

Riot was stopped by a barely standing wall at the edge of the blast and the only thing that stopped him from being a small red mark on the wall and oh-so-much Elven Jell-O was his Shadowform, which broke from the stress of the impact. He fell to the ground, groaning.

Erylian staggered a little as he walked toward Riot. That had taken a lot out of him and might have fried a few magical pathways in his body. Never-the-less, it had to be done. With a flick of his wrist he lit the body of Riot aflame and once Riot died, he felt that same falling sensation.

Erylian was on the floor of the boat again. Riot was standing over him, livid. His Shadowform was still not viable to be used.

"Fine. I will kill you here, Erylian!" Riot readied a Holy Fire spell. The golden light that shone around his feet was tinged with black and most of the energy in his hands while casting was black. He was so angry he couldn't tell the difference between Light and Shadow at this point. He never finished the spell.

A loud roar was heard and the tiger leaped through the doorway and onto Riot. Riot let out a surprised yell and his casting stopped immediately as the tiger tore out Riot's throat. His blood gushed and covered the deck. The tiger got up from Riot and walked towards Erylian. The shimmering outline of the tiger was instantly recognizable.

The astral tiger put his head under Erylian's hand and Erylian could just make out an arcane rune. Curious, he activated the rune and the tiger made a coughing sound.

"It's been too long since I've talked with you, my old friend." The tiger's voice was a growl as well.

"….I wasn't aware you could talk, Tiger." Erylian was a little surprised but magic was magic and he was a master of it.

"Yes. Thanks to you. And my name is not Tiger. You can't remember your old friend's name?" The tiger almost snickered at this.

"I…. am not myself." Erylian didn't feel like explaining himself again. "We'll have time for this later, my friend, we need to get to the Syndicate NOW!" Erylian yelled this at the tiger and the tiger nodded his affirmative. 

"Later." The tiger growled and got on his belly, inviting Erylian to mount him. Erylian jumped on his mount and they jumped off the boat and rode across the water straight for Southshore.

'_I'm not going to leave you, Krystal. If I have to burn that stronghold to the ground and destroy everyone in it I swear I'm not going to leave you..'_ The promise would haunt Erylian forever.


	12. Rescue

**Life of Ruins – Chapter 11**

**Rescue**

Simonee was standing on the balcony of one of the inns of Dalaran. It had only taken a day and a half to lift the shield of the old mage-city. Unfortunately everyone inside had died from either the magical interference or the lack of food. He didn't know; all he knew is that the city of Dalaran was is to control.

Olivia was inside sleeping off the immense amount of work they had accomplished. The massive forces Simonee had to work with had nearly ripped him apart. Without Olivia, Simonee would be oh-so-many pieces of mage smeared on the rotting walls of the outer city. They had broken the seal of the shield and allowed it to dissipate, leaving the ghost city of Dalaran open to anyone who came. After a night's rest, Simonee raised a standard arcane ward around the enterances – it was basic, but it would hold until he could raid the libraries of Dalaran and learn the more advanced magics required to build such a complicated construct.

Simonee sighed softly and walked inside. _'Might as well make my time useful'_, he thought. He walked out of the inn and down one of the many streets. Dalaran took up very little space on the border between Alterac and Hillsbrad but was very large on the inside. Simonee had learned about it as a child. Something about placing the mass else ware. Behind magic was so much physics.

Simonee remembered the basics about the city. He walked up the stone and marble steps of the library, carved by magic so long ago by his forefathers. The library was immense, shooting up into the sky a good five stories and ending in the ever-famous Dalaran spiral everyone knew so well. Simonee make the small hand gestures and spoke the soft words of opening he knew from his childhood of a mage with the intentions of learning and peace. The doors whispered open, despite the years of disuse. Such things created in magic stay much longer than those crafted by mundane means.

Simonee walked into the library and was assaulted by the scent of old books and wood polish. The library was pristine, no dust or cobwebs anywhere. It was exactly as the elders had left it when they went outside to build the shield against Arthas.

The enterance to the library was a series of bright white pillars similar to the pillars in the Holy spell Shackle. After this a central desk of dark ebony where the librarian would reside with a giant blue gem bound by silver chains attached to a gold brace around the entire gem. The chains were embedded in the wall at opposite sides of the library. Normally the gem would bob up and down gently, but the power source was subdued. It had obviously been deactivated.

Simonee walked past the pillars and walked behind the librarian's desk. The ancient runes behind the desk began glowing once Simonee walked behind the desk and one blinked at him. Curious, Simonee tapped the rune with a single finger and the familiar body of the Dalaran librarian stood on the desk in front of Simonee.



"This is a recorded message. Date unknown. Message state: mildly corrupted. Attempting recovery. Successful. Commence delivery:"

The librarian was suddenly animated.

"I am the Dalaran librarian. My name is Drian Firestone. If you see this it is most likely that I am deceased. Arthas is coming to raze the city, we have detected his coming. The elders are going to build a shield in attempt to save the city, but no one knows if it will hold. To whoever receives this, no matter if it is thousands of years from now, you must understand that the libraries of Dalaran MUST survive. The magical theories here are unique; there is no other place in the world where such magic exists. Dalaran is build upon an intersection of world-class ley lines and this allowed our mages to test magic to its limits. You will find all of our recorded studies here as well as our unfinished works. "

And as suddenly as the image came forth, it faded away. The arcane rune that had been blinked was now a dark outline against the ebony desk. Simonee sighed softly. Then a thought occurred to him.

"In order to avenge Lightsworn I need to destroy Erylian. This is my advantage…" Simonee grinned.

Simonee looked down and sifted through the index on the desk.

"Let's see…. Dual casting…."

Erylian was riding to the Syndicate stronghold. He followed the directions the guard had given him so long ago, how far east it was and such. Upon reaching the outskirts of the forest and to the stronghold Erylian stopped his quite eager mount. The war tiger was tense and his claws were already gouging the ground where his paws fell. Erylian dismounted and the mounting equipment dissolved, leaving a sleek black cat with striking green-gold eyes standing there. His teeth were bared and the eyes were alight with the same fire in Erylian's.

"God I just hope I'm not too late…" Erylian's hand found the mane of his mount. He stroked it, but the strokes came off hard.

"Don't worry. We'll deal with it as it comes, Magister." The tiger growled. His eyes were for the stronghold. He could see the guards and the quiet assassins, thinking no one could see them. Over-arrogant fools. Nothing can escape the glance of a war tiger.

Erylian nodded and started to walk forward. His mount –or what seemed to be his familiar lately- followed closely behind. His claws were still bared, but the snarl was to a minimum. Erylian walked up to the gates and banged on them. Erylian's poundings were louder than the force he had put in the blow. Once again his robes were accommodating him.

An assassin came up behind Erylian and placed his blades both against Erylian's neck and kidney before he could do anything.



"What do you want, stranger." The assassin's words were emotionless and his voice was muffled by the black facemask he wore. The rogue didn't see the arcane energy coating his blades, however.

"I want my friend Krystal. Right now. If you thieves give her to me unharmed I might just let your little hut here stand." Erylian's voice was coated in magic and malice.

The assassin was unconvinced. "No mage can escape the clutches of a rogue when opportunity arises. You will see the slut shortly, I'm sure." The assassin attempted to thrust the blades into Erylian's neck and kidney but only succeeded in stabbing himself as the blades turned abruptly around, the force being rerouted. Erylian grimaced. That wasn't the only rogue to try to best him.

The gates shot open and a line of black-clad men were standing there. Their weapons ranged from enormous bastard swords to small pinprick daggers designed for poisoning more than true stabbing. Without warning the black figures sprang into action and ran right for Erylian. The war tiger that was half-hiding behind Erylian roared and sprang right over Erylian's head and slammed into three of the men. One died instantly from the paw of the giant tiger crushing his skull and the other two short after from the use of his claws.

Erylian's blood boiled. He was in the middle of a flashback to the Battle of Mount Hyjal. The undead were coming for him again, dressed in black and holding his comrade's weapons.

"YOU BASTARDS!" He yelled out and ran forward with his eyes blazing. In one hand he held a charging Pyroblast and in the other a still forming Cone of Cold. The Pyroblast roared from his hand, expanding the air around it from the intense heat and making a noise similar to that of rolling thunder. The spell vaporized two men and a section of the door.

In the other hand he used the Cone of Cold to freeze two people solid. The looks of surprise on their faces frozen and their last movements preserved. The wind blew gently and knocked one over, shattered him to pieces.

Erylian walked through the gates and thrust his hands out as he past them. The fire licked at the gates greedily and soon both gates were ablaze. Erylian's outline shimmered in the heat and his eyes turned alternatively boiling redish-yellow and a cold azure blue. His body was feasting on the energies he was conjuring forth and growing stronger each spell. The fire coating his right hand was so thick one may have mistaken it for magma attached to the end of an arm and in the other his hand was covered in the thickest frost that even the far reaches of Northrend has never seen.

An assassin ran straight at him, blades flashing and yelling a battle cry. Erylian ducked under the blades and grabbed the man by the neck with his right hand and his neck was incinerated instantly. The headless body fell to the ground and was slowly consumed by flames. Erylian let loose a howl and threw his hands up in the air, calling the largest blast of fire he has ever dared bring forth. The Blast Wave that exploded from his body was massive and tore Durnhold apart. The fiery wave splashed along the Keep and tore stones from it as a hurricane would tear the roof from a hut. The keep was the only thing standing, even the bridge had turned into charred pile of rubble.



Erylian was barely fazed. Normally he would be gasping for air as his trained body delt with the forces involved in casting such a spell, but he was beyond that now. He felt invincible, unstoppable.

"_These humans will have Hell to pay_!" Erylian's voice boomed along the keep. The words seemed to have fallen from his mouth.

"_Die, disgusting pigs!_" Erylian's entire body was encased in flame as he blast the doors of the keep wide open. The doors didn't just blast open, they crumpled under the force and slammed into the far wall. Erylian walked into the keep, the torches along the walls lighting, then quickly turning to ash as he walked past. He was a master of flame. He was the embodiment of flame.

He came across a man scrambling down a hall with scrolls and papers clutched desperately in his hands. He wore spectacles and was a rather large man. Obviously a scribe. Erylian Blinked right in front of him and grabbed him by the throat. He willed the flames not to burn the man.

Erylian's voice carried an odd undertone, a rumbling. _"Where is Krystal. The woman you brought from Southshore, human pig"_ The words just seemed so right. The power so compelling.

The man trembled and dropped his papers immediately. "You're…. s-she's down in the c-cellars, f-Firelord. Please d-don't destroy me…." The man was shaking and was looking right into Erylian's eyes.

"_Leave._" Erylian's command had little of his voice in it. It was mostly a rumble or a growl. Smoke came from his eyes and nose as he dropped the man and walked back towards the cellar.

Erylian walked down into the cellar and one of the Syndicate men was fumbling with his belt buckle. Krystal was thrown over a barrel, mostly undressed. She was chained to the bottom of the barrel by both her hands and feet. Tears were streaming from her eyes and she was sobbing silently, looking away and waiting for the inevitable. The Syndicate man noticed the change in light in the room and looked at Erylian. His eyes widened and he ran back up against the wall, the button on his pants still stuck.

"By the Light… No… Hel.." Those were his last words before Erylian covered him in flame. The only thing left of him was the every edge of his boots and a charred skull. Erylian looked at Krystal and the flames dampened.

His voice had less of a rumble in it. "…_Krystal?_" Erylian looked at her.

Krystal's head snapped to the side and saw Erylian. She let out a small cry and smiled.

"Hey mage-boy. Glad 'ta see ya, wanna help me outta these irons?" Krystal was beaming from ear to ear as she jingled her chains against the loops on the barrel.

Erylian stepped forward and used a focused Firebolt to remove the shackles from her ankles and wrists. Erylian's eyes cooled to their standard yellow orbs. The illusion had been burned off his eyes but he hadn't noticed.



"I think I can do better than that, Krystal." Erylian smiled as he pulled the shackles off her, freeing her. She jumped up and wrapped her arms around him. Erylian let out an 'oof' from the force of the hug but quickly hugged her back with the same fierceness.

"I was afraid I was too late. That damn priest nearly stopped me." Erylian spat the word "priest" from his mouth.

Krystal nodded and was crying gently. Erylian simply held her in his arms.

After a few minutes Krystal let go and wiped the tears from her eyes. She laughed hollowly, trying to maintain her tough exterior.

"We better get outta here, mage-boy." Krystal looked at Erylian. "Wait… what's wrong with your eyes?" Krystal was looking deep into the yellow orbs. Erylian's face would have drained in dread had it been able to.

"Krystal… I'll explain it later, okay?" Erylian cursed himself silently. He should have been more careful…

He took her hand and guided her up the stairs and out of the Keep. Standing in front of them was another line of men with a dark, robed figure on a large, fiery horse in front. His face was under a cowl and his body was a mass of whirling, dark energy. His shoulder pads had the skulls of many animals on them, and what Erylian thought was a few human ones.

Erylian shot his hands out of his robe. He came this far and there was no reason that he should fail now. With a vengeance he shot a Fireball at the robed figure. A multi-colored cloud of light surrounded the figure and absorbed the Fireball into the reds and oranges of the light. After a moment the light faded back into the figure.

Erylian scowled. Nothing had ever been absorbed by his spells like that, and that was a technique that didn't seem to be casted. What _was_ that?

The figure's horde let out a neigh and disappeared, leaving the robed figure standing. The voice of the robed figure was surprisingly female, but horribly distorted with the anguished cries of a thousand deaths by dark fire.

"_What do we have here. An old mage and a wench leaving our humble palace? Such a mess you've made, Magister. Perhaps you should have been more careful"_ the robed figure's red eyes, visible under the hood of the robe, were locked on Erylian.

The figure let out a laugh. _"Undead? An undead mage! How strange, and such a form you take! Let me see your true form…"_ The woman lifted her hand and made a brushing motion. Erylian recognized it immediately and shoved Krystal out of the way of the spell. Erylian took the entire thing, the Immolate spell tearing his flesh from his bones and burning him from head to toe. He let out a yell and held his hands over his eyes out of instinct. He fell to the ground, groaning. The human flesh had burned away, leaving only his undead muscles and bones left. The Immolate spell had burned him from the inside out; 

the protection of the robe was useless and, so, the robe was not damaged. Erylian looked at his hand and saw a diseased, rotting hand. Tears filled the cavity that was his eye sockets and stung down into the hole in his cheek. He tasted the salt.

Erylian looked at the warlock and was enraged. She had stripped him of his remaining humanity and all his hopes. He stood up swiftly. The muscles were still intact from his rebirth, although a few were scorched. He felt that familiar rage and smelled the decay that was not his own. He smelled the evil of the warlock and knew immediately that this fight was not one fire could fight fire.

He roared as he filled his hands with the azure energy of the northern winds. He saw the wind, the cold water and the frost that was the north. He tore power from the world and put it inside himself as is all mages' birthright. He became the avatar of the cold.

Frost came from his breath like a Lich of the Scourge. His robes flared a deep blue and frosted over. His remaining skin and muscles cracked with ice and his eyes turned the same azure that his hands brought forth. With all the rage and all the power, he put his hands together and cast a massive Frostbolt which ripped through the air with the scream of the wind and the fear of the cold.

The Frostbolt slammed into the warlock and drove her back several feet, but she kept her footing and accepted the entire blow. Her robes were frosted, but nothing more. She brushed them off and dropped her hood, showing a beautiful face with dark red eyes and long, blood-stained fangs. She was human. Once.

Erylian's undead face twisted into a look of disgust. This woman threw her life and soul to the Nether for the promise of power. Disgusting.

The woman put her hands in front of her chest with a calm, focusing look of someone attempting to thread a needle. Bright purple energy ripped up from the ground and from the air into her hand and flashed into several runes which combined in quick succession. The purple energy shot into the air and exploded out, dropping a demon next to her. The insanely beautiful demoness looked at Erylian with a look of pure sexual mischief and blew a kiss to him. Erylian could feel the magic in the kiss and shrugged it off.

_No no, warlock. I'm not that simple._ Erylian thought. He brought his hand down and thrust it forward and the frost that covered his hand shot out in a large lance of ice. The ice impaled the demoness and she shrieked in pain and pleasure. She fell to the ground with the stake of ice through her stomach and a look of anguish and ecstasy on it. She looked at the warlock.

The female warlock looked back at her and ordered her to remove the Ice Lance. The demoness nodded and pulled it from her stomach almost grudgingly. Her stomach melded back together without a single drop of blood. Pure shadow energy.

Erylian's lips tightened. This damn warlock has tricks for everything!



"I wonder, warlock. Nether is the absence of order, what is the opposite of that? Order? Hmm…" Erylian grinned and flashed an arcane rune in front of him. The rune flared and shot energy back into his hand. He thrust forward and shot the energy at the demoness and the lightly musical sound of Arcane energy filled the air. The Arcane Blast hit the demoness and she cried out in agony and disappeared.

"Arcane. Light banishs Shadow, but your Nether is not indestructible." Erylian gloated and grinned.

The warlock looked at Erylian and fire filled her hands. She held a purple shard in one hand and it was consumed by the fire greedily. The fire raged as if it had life of its own and threw itself from her hand straight to Erylian with an unholy roar. Erylian cast his most powerful Fire Ward and braced himself for the impact. The fire clashed with the ward, completely engulfing Erylian, the fire raging around the ward and trying to destroy the man within the magic. The fire died off shortly, the Fire Ward glowing weakly and breaking finally. Erylian stood up straight and created a series of Arcane Bolts, throwing them all at the warlock and moving in an arc, trying to attack from different angles and throw her off. The bolts each scored against the warlock's cloth armor, doing considerable damage to the cloth and dampening the dark vortex she was clothed in. The warlock grimanced.

Erylian took the advantage and stood in his battle casting position, his feet far apart and his hands almost cradling the magic in between them. His eyes dropped to his hands and as he conjured mass upon mass of Arcane energy. Once the ball of arcane energy turned a blinding white-purple, he draped it over his arms. The energy clung to his skin.

The warlock threw a series of Shadowbolts and Death Coils, all of which were parried by an Arcane-coated arm. Each parry drained a bit of the energy, but Erylian was actively replenishing the energy. He saw one of the men in the line break and head for Krystal, who was standing against one of the walls shaking, but he could do nothing to stop him. He was too busy involved with the warlock.

"Krystal!" He shouted. "Watch out!"

Krystal opened her eyes and saw the assassin coming for her. Her eyes widened and she made a quick calculation. She could make it. She dashed into the Keep and ran into the armory. She slammed and locked the door shut and looked around, waiting for the familiar gold glint. The axe never really stayed dark. She found it and nearly cradled it in happiness. Then she had an idea.

She walked to the other end of the armory and saw the plate mail hanging on the manikin. She could hear the pounding on the door by the assassin as he tried to get in, but she paid no attention to that. In front of her was a full set of silver-colored glowing plate mail. She knew the set immediately. This was a set of Truesilver Armor. Not the most amazing stuff, but definitely a good find for an unarmed blacksmith. She walked up to the armor and quickly took the breastplate, pushing against her chest and stomach. The metal shifted to accomidate the female proportions and the buckles lashed themselves around her back, setting the chestplate on her. She did this with the rest of the armor and soon she became a Truesilver knight, standing in a battle stance with a glinting golden axe standing in front of the armory door. She kicked the latch and the assassin nearly stumbled in from smashing against the door. 

He looked confused the second before Krystal cleaved his head off. She walked down the hallway and out of the Keep. She saw the continuation of the duel.

Erylian had just parried a rather nasty Shadowbolt when the shadow engulfed the warlock fully. Erylian didn't recognize this spell and he reinforced his arm guards, readying for a new attack.

It was like the sky fell on Erylian. Shadow energy fell from the sky like a hammer coming down to meet an unexpecting anvil. The shadow energy knocked the sense out of Erylian and he fell to the ground, stunned. The arcane energy swirled around his arms.

The warlock walked towards Erylian, flicking her hand at Krystal. Krystal let out a yip before she lost all control of her body. Green energy had surrounded her and left her completely immobile. The green energy was unable to coat the axe, however, and she could see the energy receding from the axe up her arm as the magic in the axe fought against the vile green Banish spell.

"_Magister, you fought well. But I grow tired of your theatrics. We all meet in the Twisting Nether, perhaps we will meet again."_ She brought her hand down and all she saw was a flash of black.

"No… not my friend!" The growling voice sounded as Erylian's tiger threw himself over Erylian and took the full fury of the warlock's Shadowburn. The tiger roared out and fell over next to Erylian.

This noise woke Erylian and he looked up at the warlock. He pushed his hands together and thrust them up into the warlock's stomach. Before the warlock could react the Arcane magic in his arms had transformed into an Arcane Blast and had burned right through her protective robe. The Blast traveled straight through her, leaving a fist-sized hole in her stomach and burning her as the Arcane magics traveled up her veins, burning her further. She fell backward into a crumbled heap.

Erylian let his arms fall and he looked over at his tiger. The tiger's beautiful eyes were staring at him, the spark still there.

"Are you alright, my friend?" The tiger growled at Erylian weakly.

"Yes I'm alright." Erylian got on his knees and looked at the tiger's side. The Shadowburn had almost completely burned through his side. Erylian winced. "You're gonna be fine…"

The tiger did an imitation of laughing and panting. "No I'm not, my friend. It's alright. Your spell will call another like me, you know that. I'm just one of many…" The tiger shook his head a little.

"Erylian, my name was Sharpmane. When another comes make sure they see this." The tiger swiped his claw along the back of Erylian's hand that was on the ground. A small slash was made on the gray, dead skin of Erylian's hand. "They will know you don't lie." The tiger's image started to fade.

"Sleep well, Sharpmane. I'll see you someday in the Twisting Nether…" Erylian took his friend's paw and watched as Sharpmane's eyes grew dull. He faded away as would any other arcane construct, but his blood was still on the ground. Not just a construct.



Erylian stood and looked at Krystal. He put his arms out.

"Now you know what I am, Krystal. Why I can't see priests or paladins, and why I was skinny when you first saw me. Skeleton indeed!" Erylian said this mirthlessly.

Krystal removed the Truesilver helmet and her eyes met Erylian's. She looked grim.

"We aren't even of the same alliance. You lied to me." Krystal sighed. "You're not even human."

Erylian took a step towards Krystal. The cracking of his bones were not muted by flesh now, and Krystal raised her sword with a single hand warily. Erylian stopped and looked at Krystal, obviously pained.

"Fine. Your welcome for saving you, lady. Maybe I shouldn't have bothered." Erylian drew a rune in the air in front of him. Krystal's eyes widened.

"Avatar, wai-" The rune exploded in a flash of bright Arcane energy and Krystal put her gauntleted hands over her eyes. The light subsided and Erylian was gone.

"I'm sorry, mage-boy." Krystal did not let herself cry. She glanced down at her armor and a thought struck her.

"Maybe I can actually get out…" Krystal smiled.

Meanwhile, Simonee was sitting in the Dalaran library at the ebony desk. The piles of books around him were daunting to even the geeky bookworms. _Theories on the Effect of Elemental Barrage on Arcane Barriers, Laws of Magic, _and _The Theory of Unconnected Magical Pathway Control_ were only some of the titles. The last one was based on High Magister Erylian.

Simonee smiled. The books were only the beginning. He was almost ready to unlock the coffers of Dalaran.

"Lightsworn would be proud." Simonee smiled ruefully and delved back into his reading.


	13. Artifacts of Dalaran

**Life of Ruins Ch. 12**

**The Library**

"Thank. Gods." Simonee whispered to himself and put his face in his hands. The final studying session. He had finished more than ten books in the past few days. The only interruptions were when Olivia distracted him enough to conjure up some food to eat, but even then he barely ate. The facts and equations were swimming around in his head. He couldn't wait to test them.

"Teacher, I'm ready for the test!" He said softly and laughed. That was the most studying he'd done since his childhood. The amount of information was enormous though, and some of the theories running through his head were so complex that just trying to think about them was a migraine itching to happen.

Simonee put his hands down on the desk and looked around the Dalaran library. The ebony desk he sat at, where the old librarian used to sit, was just a pristine as when he first walked in. He ran his hand over the smooth surface slowly. He remembers being here as a child. He never studied; he wasn't a mage yet. His parents had needed to come here but he never knew why. The first place he went was to this library. Simonee looked up and saw the pillars at the enterance that had been so towering at first. They were still enormous, but now he was older and larger, and they didn't look nearly as big. The bookcases did through. The massive bookcases that went to the massive ceiling that almost seems to have no end. Every book written by some pacient scribe and placed lovingly in the bookcase. There hasn't been a staff to care for these books in years, so Simonee had activated the emergency constructs. They had cleaned up the place and would continue to do so until the huge crystal hovering above the ebony desk ran out of power. Which according to Simonee's calculations of the decay of magical power in the world, the crystal, and the consumption of power was in about 2,600,000 years, so he figured that he didn't need to worry about that.

Simonee invoked one of the new spells and lifted off into the air. The arcane spell that he invoked mentally –another skill he learned– changed the normal force exerted on his body. He went over the spell mentally.

"_This experimental Levitation spell was designed to change the normal force the mage's body receives from the ground. The pattern for the spell is listed below. Be warned: a mage's body, depending on the race of the mage, can only handle so much of a change in this force. Too much could result in irreparable bodily damage." _

At least, that's what the book had said.

Simonee floated over the desk and lowered himself down to the ground gently. He could feel the tug of the force on his body, it was almost like a horse taking off at a gallop instantly and feeling his arms tug as his body tried to catch up. Simonee smiled in success.



His smile faded when he thought about the artifacts of Dalaran. He needed to get his hands on them if he was going to face Erylian. He nodded slowly to himself and started walking to the western side of the building. There was one enterance but many exits, most of which could be triggered accidently. Simonee glanced up at the books he passed as he walked towards the west wall. He stopped once or twice to take a look. He'd have to come back and take a closer look at some of these.

Simonee stopped at the bright white wall. There was no bookcase here; it just looked like the wall of the library. The white marble was unblemished and carried a slight sheen to it, as most magically made objects have, but this sheen seemed to be slightly too bright. Simonee placed his hands on the wall and spoke the words of secret opening with threatening of fire and destruction, just as the book had told him. This arcane construct needed to be told who was boss or it would drop you at the bottom of the ocean.

The wall seemed to buckle and changed into what looked like a mirror. Simonee's reflection stared back at him and copied his movements as he took his hands off the mirror.

"What is it that you seek mage?" Simonee's reflection said in his voice. His reflection's eyes were a bright white, where Simonee's were brown.

"Let me into the chambers the artifacts are located, Construct. I order you to, or I will destroy you." Simonee's face hardened and he began to build an Ice Lance in one hand.

The corner of the construct's mouth twitched, and then smiled somewhat slyly. Simonee's reflection bowed deeply and the mirror changed into a deep black portal. Simonee summoned another Ice Lance in the other hand and grimaced at the cold he felt.

'Quickly', he thought, 'before this cold gives me frostbite.' He stepped through the portal.

Simonee stepped out of the portal into a dark gray room with three doors on the far wall. There was a knight's armor on display with his sword right in front, as customary. Simonee released the second Ice Lance into the floor as he lost control of the spell and it bounced around the room, slamming into the knight's armor. The armor shuddered and jumped forward, landing on its feet.

The armor said nothing and had no one inside it, but that didn't stop it from trying to take Simonee's head off with the two-handed sword it had in its gauntlets. Simonee parried the blow with the Ice Lance, holding it out in his hand instead of shooting it at the knight. The knight's armor swung again and Simonee parried again. There was no way he could get this done with only one spell! He began weaving a Fire Ward around his hands with his hand that held the Ice Lance, stopping once to parry another sword swipe, then he began coaxing forth a Pyroblast in the protected hand. The fire licked at the Fire Ward as it built, the Ward absorbing the hostile fire but leaving the docile, controlled spellfire alone. At the apex of the spell, Simonee ducked under a particularly wide sword swipe and shoved his hand up the knight's crotch, releasing the spell and firing it up. The Pyroblast roared out of Simonee's hand and melted straight through, splitting the knight in half. The armor fell to the floor in bright red pieces and heard the slight _crack_ of old wood moving. Simonee sighed and held up his Warded hand. With a breath 

he blew the Ward away and flexed his heat-stiffened fingers. After a moment to collect himself, he walked to the center of the room and looked at each door.

Each door had a keyhole in the center of it and no doorknob. One door was slightly ajar and must have been the door that opened when he melted the armor to pieces. He walked up to the door and saw a rune on it. Simonee traced his finger along the engraving but the rune made no sense to him. He shrugged and opened the door fully.

Beyond was a larger, brighter room with an armory in it. The style of the armor and weapons were Elven and beyond old. The swords were either bronze or iron and the shields were almost Orcish in their shoddiness. Simonee walked among the swords and spears with mild interest. There was a few enchanted weapons, but they were either unskillfully enchanted or so old that they simply didn't work anymore. As Simonee walked through the room the weapons started to get more and more modern until he was standing in an armory the Stormwind Quartermaster would give his legs to get his hands on. The swords were either extremely ornate or very simple. The swords of kings and fighters alike. Simonee walked up and took a look at an almost transparent blade. He had almost missed it along the golden shortswords. The handle was Truesilver but it had no blade. It almost looked unfinished. Simonee went to pick it up, and once his hand touched the handle the blade fired into existence. A blood red blade covered in fire had materialized perfectly out of the handle. As Simonee tested the weight of the sword he felt an engraving on the handle. He turned it around and saw what it said:

_Sac-Raz, Spellsword of the Highborne_

Simonee let out a long whistle. This spellsword was from the High Elves of Quel'Thalas. Simonee was almost grinning as he put the sword to his belt and watched the sword create a sheathe and place itself for easy reach. The Dalaran robes Simonee wore instantly responded to the artifact and started absorbing energy from the sword, and the sword gave the energy endlessly. Simonee's robes changed to a deep blue and gold engravings appeared where the robe closes around his chest. His robes were almost identical to a High Mage of Quel'Thalas, but he didn't know that. Simonee smiled and continued along the armory. Just as he was nearing the end of the room he noticed something out of the corner of his eye. He turned around and walked back to the rack. There was a staff floating in the air above the rack. The staff had a slight white sheen to its light brown wood. The staff was a simple stick, but had a mount where a headpiece seemed to fit. Simonee reached out and his hand was burned instantly by a white flame. Simonee turned his head and read the engraving on the staff:

_Atiesh, Greatstaff of the Guardian_

"No way!" Simonee's mouth dropped and he looked at the staff with both respect and fear. This staff belonged to Medivh!" Simonee took a step back. Even only partially complete the staff hurt him. Simonee thought for a moment.

'Maybe with my new spells I can tame it. Imagine… taming Atiesh…' Simonee grinned at the though. He started going through all the spells he had learned. He had finished his mage training first, of course, so 

a simple Fire Ward would be needed. But Atiesh isn't just fire…. And he went on and on. Finally he got the runes ready.

Simonee starting weaving the runes in the air with both his hands: First his Fire Ward, the red sheen slipping over his body silently; Second, a Frost Ward, the blue slipping in with the red without a reaction; he would need a new spell as well.

Simonee placed his hands in front of him, took a deep breath and closed his eyes. He started moving his hands in very exaggerated patterns, leaving a bright purple line wherever his fingers touched the air. The experimental rune expanded and contracted, almost as if it was breathing. Simonee made a pulling motion, and the ward unraveled into a series of glowing purple threads that covered his entire body. The threads expanded until they touched, where they took on the appearance of metal. The metal shifted constantly and had a constant arcane hue.

Simonee kept his eyes closed until the _Mage Armor_ spell was complete. When he opened his eyes a helmet rested upon his head, bathed in purple light. The armor was a metallic purple-blue which had it's own shine of power. The armor was constantly shifting, moving over itself and plates scraping against each other, which made the armor's shape a little hard to look at. Simonee's shape in the armor looked taller, shorter, thinner and fatter at the same time. He blended into the background just as much as stood out like a windrider in a pack of gryphons.

Simonee looked out the eyeslits in the helmet and was barely surprised when the armor accomidated his line of sight. The armor's slits changed and molded, the helmet becoming skintight and allowing for full range of vision. Simonee smiled and brought up his arm, the armor's plates moving out of the way to accomidate the movement. His hand and fingers were completely plated with the armor but he could move as easily as if he were naked. He was very pleased.

Simonee's smile turned into a grin as he thrust his hand into the display, shattering the glass and grabbing hold of the Greatstaff. The staff filled the room with a roar and the wind picked up in the room, the roaring of the staff combined with the roaring of the wind. The staff's slight white glow grew to a blinding white as it battered Simonee with the wrath of a thousand lightning strikes, the fury of the stars and the crushing weight of the earth. The armor buckled slightly at each attack, but held it did, and Simonee laughed in triumph. The staff finally calmed down, the roaring dimming down to a small arcane buzz and the wind dropping down to an eerie silence. Simonee brought the staff up to his side and the bottom of the staff hit the ground with a dull and echoing _thud._ A white figure emerged from the staff, dressed in old style robes with the posture of one aware of his power.

The Shade of Medivh regarded the mage in front of him. He was slight in build, even covered in his armor. The armor stopped immediately and locked in place. Simonee brushed his hand over the helmet and it melted into the arcane energy in his hand. Simonee looked at the shade, on guard.

"Relax, mage. I am Medivh. Or I was. You carry my staff, Atiesh." Medivh put his hands in his robes and waited for the mage to react. Simonee's eyed widened slightly, but he seemed to take the introduction well.



Simonee began to speak, but Medivh cut him off.

"Yes, I know you are Simonee. I know all about you, as does the staff. Ateish is not a normal staff, mage. It can only be held by those who have great power. Don't let that power go to your head, or the Gods might just decide to take it away from you just as they did me. And above all you must remember, do not listen to him." Medivh nodded his head once and was gone instantly.

Immediately after Medivh left the staff's arcane hum silenced and he felt the staff's will merge with his own. His mana pool was increased exponentially, he could feel his very horizons widening. Simonee let out a laugh and tapped the staff lightly on the ground. A massive wave of fire came from his ankles and blasted the nearest weapons and armor to charred pieces. Simonee let out a louder laugh and drew a rune in the air in front of him. Ateish's normal white glow flared and the normally blue rune flared white, and was cast only half done. The normal pulling sensation of teleportation took him and he was standing behind the ebony desk of Dalaran. He looked at the staff, impressed.

"Well, Atiesh, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship…" Ateish flared white again and Simonee grinned. But when Simonee looked away he failed to see the slight tinge of red in Atiesh's white flames.


	14. Onward

**Life of Ruins: Chapter 13**

**Onward**

Erylian was beside himself as he glided through the arcane corridor. He was surrounded in purple and white light, his undead flesh a stark contrast to the beautiful light and too-vibrant color. He was gliding slowly, having put no destination in his teleport spell. He had just needed to get away. A shame his tear ducts didn't work, he felt as if because of that he almost couldn't grieve.

Erylian sighed. He should have never expected her to accept him as he was. There had seemed to be something there, when they were in that cottage together… but that's history now. Erylian steeled himself against the pain in his chest that had nothing to do with his mutilated heart. It felt like it looked, now.

There was a slight nagging and the suggestion of Nether mixed with the energies around him, but Erylian was too engrossed in his own feelings to notice it.

As he continued along this arcane plane he saw the streaks that could only be mages hyper-accelerating through this plane to their destinations. He didn't belong with any of them. His brothers, no matter the race, wouldn't accept him. Even the Forsaken had treated him with jealousy and contempt after he had his sudden regeneration.

He couldn't go back. But he knew one place he could go…

Erylian kicked up the amount of power in his teleport spell and turned into a bright white streak in this world of purples and whites. His destination was quite far away, but at this speed it wouldn't take long….

Erylian exploded into the physical world with a loud **BANG** and a slight popping noise and he displaced the air around him. The green, slopped landscape surrounded him. The trees grew besides the paved path and the barricades were still mostly intact. He walked past the Night Elf design and stroked the wood gently. It crumbled at his touch and fell to the ground, puffing into dust. Erylian sighed and continued up the path. The command tent, in Night Elf style of course, was the place he was oh-so-long ago. This was Mount Hyjal.

He walked into the tent and he was greeted with the scent of old air. The dust swirled as he walked into the tent and the Elven fabric cracked slightly at his touch. It had been centuries since anyone had been here. The pile that had once been a map sat upon a wooden table. Mold covered one side of the table and the wood was faded.

Erylian's eyes widened as his mind unlocked…

_Before the Battle…_



Erylian was standing at the table looking down at the map with Tyrande and Jaina. They were all troubled.

"_Yes, if they break through our defenses it will be up to you, Jaina. I'm sure my sentinels will be able to handle the undead for a least a while though. Should give you plenty of time."_ Tyrande seemed confident in her plan.

"No, Tyrande." Erylian shook his head. "You don't understand what we're dealing with. This is a LEGION of undead, you will be overrun. You need to come back and fortify the main defenses."

Tyrande shook her head. _"We will remain here. Don't worry about us, Mage, we've been alive long enough to know how to fight. You, however, are as young as a sapling." _

"Stupidity is unbecoming of you, High Priestess."

Tyrande frowned slightly as she looked at Erylian.

Erylian shook his head and left the tent.

_Back at Hyjal._

Erylian blinked his eyes and shook his head as he walked out of the tent, exactly as he had hundreds of years ago. He remembered walking up the path…

_Before the Battle_

Erylian walked up the path and walked into his Spellthread tent. The tent sealed behind him – a precaution for himself and others. If he tests a spell and it ends badly at least he won't take the camp with him. Erylian chuckled as he remembered the first time he attempted the _Flamestrike_ spell and nearly lit a neighborhood on fire. He shook his head and belted on one of the spellswords. He didn't want to take his father's into battle, it was too important to him. Better that he leave it here. Erylian snapped the spellsword into place and snapped one of his best staves across his back. He felt his mana and energy pools expand and he smiled. He never liked being without his weapons, he always felt less then what he was whenever he went without them. He was smart enough never to rely on them more than required though – many a mage had simply depended on their weapons for their power and protection from the energies they conjured only to be useless as a simple warrior destroyed their wand or staff.

Erylian heard the horn blow and rushed out of the tent. The tent sealed itself again and locked. No one would be able to get in with the specific spellpattern that acted as a key. Thankfully, he had memorized it years ago. Erylian looked down over the ridge and saw the Night Elf encampment being overrun. He grimaced. Fool.

He ran to the front of his lines and yelled to his men.



"Men, the odds are against us. I'm not going to lie to you. We are the first and ONLY line of defense against the Scourge and our inner camp. Yes, we have more defenses. Yes, its true Jaina will help the inner camps, but it doesn't matter. If they break this line, we fall. You are all lucky to defend, not just your country, but your own living soul against the ravage of the Scourge." At this point Erylian was yelling in passion.

"**SO STAND UP, MEN, PICK UP YOUR WEAPONS, DON YOUR ARMOR, AND PREPARE FOR WAR!"** Erylian had drawn his deep azure Mageblade, his backup, and roared as he charged his men to their deaths.

_Back at Hyjal…_

Erylian's hands were clenched. He stood in front of the tent, the cloth glimmering softly. His tent. His hand touched the fabric and the memory of weaving the tent came back to him. He had sat for weeks weaving this tent.

He placed his hand on the almost invisible enterance and invoked that familiar spellpattern. The tent rent down the middle and opened to him. He walked inside and his mouth gaped open.

Everything there was preserved. No dust had settled, no books yellowed, even the papers on his desk had escaped the ravages of time. He ran his flayed fingers along the pages and they shuffled softly. He remembered exactly what was on each paper now. All of them theoretic spells of destruction. Not even in the books yet. Erylian smiled even wider when he saw the red and blue spellsword propped up against his bed. His father's sword.

He walked over and the spellsword brightened considerably. Erylian picked up the sword and sat down on the bed.

All the memories of his life came back to him.

The soft smell of his mother as she caressed him in her arms, and the burnt smell as his father cursed; followed by the bell-like laughter his mother would have every time his father botched a spell.

Those familiar words… "Come on Jiaris, you should know better. No Frost Mage casts fire spells well!"

His father laughing. "Perhaps, Kira, but even so I should try! How am I going to teach our little Fire Mage here if I'm a failure in everything but freezing!"

Erylian remembered his mother's smile. "Don't worry, my love. There is a reason I chose to delve into Arcane _and_ fire for my specialties!"

They both laughed a lot.

Erylian could remember when his father died.

It had been Arthas. His father was visiting Silvermoon to talk with some of the mages about magical theory. Erylian had been ten at the time and wanted to go so badly. His father simply smiled and shook his head.

"No, Erylian. Maybe I'll bring you back one of those robes or staves the High Elves prize so much though! Wouldn't that be grand?"



Erylian cried. "No, daddy, I want to come! I don't want you to go alone!" Erylian had grabbed a hold of his father and held on as much as possible. His father's robes browned slightly at Erylian's touch. His father sighed softly and took his son by the shoulder.

"Alright, son. I tell you what. Go into the other room and get me my spellsword, okay?" Erylian hesitated. His father laughed. "Don't worry; I won't leave yet, okay?" Erylian nodded slowly and ran into the other room, grabbed his father's red and blue spellsword and ran back into the room, making sure his father hadn't left yet.

Erylian's father had his arms crossed as he regarded his ten year old son.

"Alright son, do you like that spellsword?" Erylian nodded vigorously.

"Yeah! Why Daddy?" Erylian looked confused.

His father got down on one knee and smiled at his child. "You can keep it."

Erylian's eyes got wide. "Really?!" His father nodded.

Erylian cried in happiness. "Thank you Daddy! I'll be the first one in my class to have a spellsword…!" Erylian's eyes were filled with happiness and a hint of mischief. His father laughed.

"Be good, my little magister. Do well in your classes as I'm gone, okay?" Erylian nodded.

"I love you, little one." His father smiled and stood, casting his prepared teleport spell.

"I love you too Daddy! Enjoy your… thingy!" Erylian's father laughed…

Word had come not two weeks later that Arthas had destroyed Silvermoon and that Erylian's father had been killed in the process. Since that moment, Erylian wanted to join the Stormwind Mage Guild to combat the Scourge.

Sometimes Erylian wondered if his father had taken the spellsword if he would have survived, but he had gotten over that. Arthas would have simply broken the sword and laughed at the defiance.

Erylian carefully belted the sword on to his robes. His robes and his sword started exchanging power, both filling with power. Both the sword and the robes were lighter than before. The pattern where the warlock's spell had hit had started moving again. The thread had repaired itself but he couldn't seem to imbue the cloth again; now he wouldn't need to find that tailor to fix it.

Erylian walked around the room, checking the books and his notes for anything he may need. His hand was running along the papers on his desk, reading the runes almost from memory when an unfamiliar rune was seen on a half-buried paper. Curious, Erylian uncovered the sheet and picked up the paper and his eyebrows shot up in surprise. It was an unfinished spell; Erylian had been working on it while preparing for battle. The familiar summoning runes were woven in words of fire and scales: it was a spell for summoning and binding a blue dragon. Supposedly only warlocks could have the kind of connection they do with their demons, but Erylian had simply thought that no one had explored the possibility.

Erylian pocketed the sheet and took a last look around. He smiled and walked out of the tent, locking the 'door' behind him. At least now he has somewhere to come back to if worst comes to worst. Erylian felt that nagging again and caught the scent of Nether mixed with Arcane again. The smell was familiar, but not malicious. It seemed to present a simple choice: Go or stay?



As per his natural curiosity, he accepted whatever it was and was soon shot into a corridor similar to the one he used to get here, but this was a corridor of _dark_ purples and blacks; midnight blues and deep reds. The amount of Nether energy here was stifling and almost sickening. Had Erylian not been encased in Arcane energy he was sure he would have been sick by now. Assuming his mutilated body was capable of such a function, of course.

The end of the corridor was a deep red that Erylian was sure was a series of bloodstains. He threw his arms up and yelled as he shot through the membrane and into the physical world, tripping from the sudden loss of velocity and falling on his stomach.

Erylian was thrown into what seemed to be a stockade. The dark and damp reminded him of the old Stormwind Stockades. Actually, looking around it did look familiar. In the corner a dark shape was sitting against the wall. The figure was dressed in the cotton robes of a commoner and was almost crouched into itself as if it were hungry or wounded. The figure stood up and started walking toward Erylian. As quickly as he could muster, Erylian got to his feet and pulled on the energy his robes and new sword gave him. Both articles flares to life, illuminating the room and the figure that was walking towards him. As his face was lit by the magical light, Erylian let out a small laugh.

It was the tailor from Southshore!

The tailor's gray cotton robes were torn in several places and very dirty. The shackles around his wrists were shiny with his blood, as they were too tight. The tailor gave Erylian a little grin and thrust his chin out in greeting.

"Took you long enough to accept the summon. I was getting worried that you were too dense to realize what a choice summon was. You didn't strike me to be the dull type, but I've been wrong before. I see my robes are holding up well."

Erylian grinned as well and walked up to the tailor. Both men were of the same height and similar build: about 5"11' and slight in build.

"Yeah, well, I was a little busy trying to reclaim my past." Erylian's eyes hardened as he walked into the light and allowed the tailor to see his cut face and holey cheek. The tailor shot his eyebrows up in surprise but shrugged.

"I figured you weren't human. You smelled funny. Kind of similar to a Voidwalker when first summoned." The tailor's eyes glinted with a sliver of the Nether he controlled.

"I take it you're getting the picture now."

Erylian eye's narrowed and he took a step back from the friendly tailor.

"Warlock." He said it almost accusingly.

"Undead." The tailor answered with mocking venom.

They both stood there in relative silence. The sounds of other prisoners could be heard echoing throughout the stockade.

_CLANK!_

The stockade cell's lock unlocked and the door began to swing open. Erylian whirled and invoked his Invisibility spell. He slowly faded from view and stood against the right wall. A cloaked figure came in and slowly closed the door behind him with barely a sound. The figure walked up to the warlock and 

his hands went for the daggers at his sides. Erylian came out of his spell and placed his hand over the cloaked man's throat, allowing him to feel the figure that would consume him.

"Wait!" The cloaked figure and the warlock said at once.

Erylian's eyes narrowed at the warlock again. "This man was about to draw his daggers on you and you're telling me to wait?" Erylian let the fires burn slightly and the man let out a small grunt at the pain.

The warlock almost jangled his chains in frustration. "This man is my friend! He's a rogue here to get me out, let go of him! Saranath, don't move!" His eyes were wild.

Erylian let go of the man but stood ready, in case the rogue went to draw his knives at him. He hated rogues.

The warlock rubbed his wrists after Saranath picked the locks open.

"Thanks buddy." The warlock shook the rogue's hand in a strange pattern, like some sort of secret handshake. Erylian looked on, amused.

"You know, this is almost like the time…" Saranath started and the warlock quickly clamped his dirty hand over Saranath's mouth.

"_Now is not the time for the Adventures of Saranath!!"_ The warlock whispered rather loudly. Saranath gave a small sigh and hunched his shoulders.

"Sorry, Inamedeath. You know how I get…" Saranath winked at the warlock once and opened the stockade door, going out and checking for patrols. The door closed and the warlock shook his head.

Erylian crossed his arms. "Inamedeath?" He grinned slightly.

This time the warlock's shoulders slumped.

"My parents were a comical couple."

"I see."

Inamedeath simply shook his head again and waited for Saranath.

**Author's Note:** Let's all welcome Saranath and Inamedeath into the story! Woooo! My two best WoW buddies and their characters. Things are gonna get interesting, and we might just need to expand the legendary and amazing**Adventures of Saranath, the Sexual Fiend!**

Probably not.

Anyway.

Hope you're all liking the story. The next chapter is gonna be interesting. I'm waitin to see where exactly this goes just as you all are!



I know it seems like I'm powering up Simonee and Erylian for a battle between them but who knows. I mean, I AM reading It by Steven King now, so expect some seriously sadistic

Enjoy the story!

Scion


	15. Escape The Stockades

Well, guys, Scion did a chapter up for me, and so I'm returning the favor. Hopefully this is up to snuff. Unfortunately, it's short, but sweet. Be happy, guys - Python.

Not a bad job, Python. Not bad at all. We might just need to do this more often!

Hello everyone, Scion here. This chapter is shown to you as is, no changes were made. Right from the… erm… horse's mouth? Sorry Python.

Enjoy the chapter! -Scion

**Life of Ruins: Chapter 14**

**Escape The Stockades**

Saranath returned to the relative sanctity of Inamedeath's cell, showing a grin and a thumbs up.

"After you," Erylian said, motioning Inamedeath to the bars of the door.

The warlock grunted and began to follow Saranath to the hallway. The corridor was as dark as night and smelled of rotting flesh and old dust. The three moved forward slowly, taking the time to make sure that they weren't seen. The last thing they needed now was to have their escape hampered by whomever may have been prowling the halls. Saranath led the expedition, being the expert at stealth. After walking for a few moments, the rogue quickly shot his hand up, signaling for Inamedeath and Erylian to come to a halt. Saranath turned around and face the two.

"There's a few shapes up ahead," he said. "I'll try to take care of them."

With that, Saranath turned back down the hall, fading into the plentiful shadows in the corridor. A few seconds passed before Erylian heard screams down the hallway. Two thuds punctuated the blaring sounds, and the place grew silent again. Saranath returned with a concerned look blanketing his features.

"That was louder than expected. Come, we've got to hurry. Whoever they are, they know we're here now, and that we aren't here to be their friends," he said.

Abandoning the slow pace and crouching pose, the three broke out in a full sprint. They turned a corner, afterward coming to a dead halt. Ahead of them was a large group of very irate bandits. At the head of the group stood a confident man, tall in stature. Covering his face was a burgundy cloth bandana. Erylian knew immediately who they were, and suspected that his two new companions did as well. These men were of the Defias Brotherhood.

"Well, well, well… what have we here?" asked the man leading the group. "A rogue, a warlock… and an undead? How very interesting."

Erylian looked at the group, planning what to do for the most amount of damage in the least amount of time while the leader rambled on. Each man seemed like a battle-hardened veteran, though it was hardly likely. Erylian made a small wave to Saranath to catch his attention before getting into the thick of things. The rogue nodded and Erylian was ready. Raising his arms to the sky, a large rift opened in the roof of the cavernous corridor and in dropped hundreds of large shards of ice. Some of the pieces shattered on the ground, while others impaled Defias, killing them immediately. The ice storm scattered the group and allowed for a distraction - and a quick escape. Running haphazardly through the falling shards, Erylian quickly grabbed Inamedeath's arm and led him through the commotion. Having had a signal, Saranath had already began bolting in. Within seconds, the three had reached the opposite end of the spell's circumference.

Erylian risked a look back and saw as the icy chunks began to thin out, and eventually ended falling. The rift in the roof closed back within itself, and Erylian finally looked forward. The path was straight, soon approaching a split. One kept going straight, while one turned to the right, eventually coming to a staircase. Saranath seemed to know exactly where he was going, so the undead mage followed silently - though he was finally beginning to remember. The Stockades of Stormwind. That could only mean one thing. Alliance… 

and lots of them - and the Defias behind them weren't adding any help to the problem. Erylian stopped dead in his tracks.

"I can't go out there!" he shouted, waving his arms frantically at the exit.

"Well, you sure as hell can't stay in here!" Saranath shot back. Erylian thought quickly.

"Can you hold off those Defias long enough for a quick portal? Mind you, this will be _very_ quick calculation. I can't guarantee anything exact."

"Go ahead; just make sure we end up getting there in one piece. I don't think I'd like getting scattered into hundreds of small pieces across Kalimdor."

With that, Saranath and Inamedeath took up positions between the newly reoriented group of Defias and the mage. They prepared themselves for the upcoming battle; Inamedeath began summoning one of his demonic minions, while Saranath poisoned the edges of his blades. Erylian was busy tackling the tricky algorithms of his spell. If he was to get them somewhere that was relatively safe in as few pieces as possible, then maybe… maybe they would be able to rest and think about what to do next. Quickly building the spell, he began forming the runes necessary.

In front of Erylian, the Defias had reached Saranath's and Inamedeath's line of defense. The rogue was able to slice through much of the first wave, using speed and guile to swing his blades successfully. Inamedeath had his succubus wooing the men while he was busy allotting a plethora of curses and afflictions to each. A few even went mad and began running the other way. With their defense, Erylian was able to create his portal. That was about the time that he fell unconscious.

_Wisps of the Kirin Tor passed him by, old memories that had been faded and forgotten… but not at all lost. Great cages, remnants of the dungeons in Dalaran. A great serpentine Naga, and the Betrayer. These all seemed like long-known memories, yet seemed all so unfamiliar to him. With a tug, each of these thoughts were taken away from him._

Erylian woke again with a start. His head buzzed with questions and the pain conducive of a headache. The surroundings were that of a forest, albeit much darker and sorrowful. Looking around, Erylian saw Saranath and Inamedeath speaking in undertones next to a brilliant fire. He only caught small snippets of their hushed conversation.

"…the Undercity! It's not…"

"It's fine… fight…"

"We can't possibly…!"

"Look, he's awake."

Inamedeath was looking at Erylian, the fire reflecting in his eyes. Saranath had also turned around to look at him, flashing a hint of a smile.

"Congratulations, you did it… you got us all the way to Tirisfal. Damn near the Plaguelands. About a mile off and we'd be in deep trouble.," he said.

"Well, we're safe… aren't we?" Erylian asked.

"Yeah, but only after we had to drag your skinny self through the portal, and after that fighting off a group of very confused and very angry undead."

"So… good times then?"

Saranath laughed heartily. "I guess so. You have a good nap?"

"Ugh… not really. I'm starting to get a headache."

"A headache? I'd say you're beginning to get a head. Here," Inamedeath said, handing over a piece of polished glass. When Saranath looked at him quizzically, he simply replied, "What? It's good for on-the-go touch-ups!"

Erylian took the mirror in his hand and looked into it. Inamedeath was right - he was beginning to gain the replenished skin again. Through his mysterious memory he had once again begun the regeneration. And then he remembered.

"I have to get back to Mount Hyjal!" he shouted.

"HUSH!" Saranath whispered. "We're still close enough to be heard by any wandering hunting parties… and why Hyjal?"

"I… I have something to do there."

With a short pause, Saranath shrugged. "Whatever, man…"

The rogue turned back to tend to the fire, and Erylian followed him to sit. It was a quiet night after that, with scattered conversations every now and again. Soon after, each had spread out a small sleeping bag and had settled in for the night.


	16. Hyjal

Hey! I'm back! That's right. After nearly two years of inactivity and standing around with my thumb up my behind, I am finally back to give you the next installment of Life of Ruins! I'll be finishing it in my free time now.

Please don't come after me in an angry mob.

Enjoy!

Life of Ruins – Chapter 15

All was well in the camp. Sarenath slept lightly, blades half-drawn and ready to slice and dice any intruder. Inamedeath snored loudly, sucked in some of his long hair, sputtered, then spit it out and resettled himself on the ground.

Erylian wasn't so peaceful. He tossed and turned, and slowly an angry purple outlined his body. It pulsed each time he moved, and wavered each time he took a ragged breath.

Erylian was dying again. He had fought well, but that rotting ghoul still managed that gash across his stomach. However this time, the ghoul exploded before it could take that final bite. Erylian looked up, dazed from the flash of magic. He saw a woman's figure, outlined in fire.

"Erylian", the womanly figure said in a voice of smooth velvet, "You are the last of the High Magisters. You must go to Hyjal to find what you seek. Beware the Aspect.." The figure faded and Erylian was left to experience his death once again.

He woke with a start, jerking up and yelling the beginnings of a Blast Wave spell. Sarenath jumped to his feet, blades at the ready. Inamedeath snored louder.

Erylian looked around feverishly, looking to target the never Scourge soldier. He caught Sarenath's eye and dropped his hands, letting the spell fizzle out. Sarenath looked at Erylian and said softly,

"Are you well, Erylian? You startled me.." Sarenath lowered his blades but kept them in his hands. Erylian shook his head slowly and rubbed his temples.

"Just a dream, Sarenath. Sorry to startle you." He looked over at Inamedeath and grined slightly. "Good thing you were keeping watch. I'd probably need to summon a volcano to wake up."

Sarenath chucked and sheathed his blades. "Yes, normally that's what it takes. That or just try to take something from him.. his hands are usually awake more than he is!" Sarenath grinned at the thought, and padded softly over to Inamedeath. He reached down and attempted to take a concealed wand out of the warlock's pocket, but Inamedeath's hand lashed out and swatted Sarenath's. He then gave a loud snore and rolled over. Sarenath laughed loudly and shook his head.

"One of these days, Iname. One of these days I'll win this game." He looked back over to Erylian. "We should be going soon. We don't want to be caught in one of those Undercity patrols." Sarenath shifted and kicked Inamedeath in the back lightly, which was replied with a snort and a cough from him.

"Mmph, no Mom I don't wanna go to priest training again..." Inamedeath murmured softly and turned onto his back. Sarenath kicked him again, this time in the ribs.

"....Huh? Oh, hey dude." Inamedeath looked over to Sarenath and Erylian. "Time to get up already?"

Erylian grinned. "Yeah, but not for priest training." He crossed his arms. Inamedeath blushed a deep red.

"I am never sleeping around you two again...." Inamedeath stood up and brushed himself off, dirt and decaying leaves falling off his robes. He looked at Erylian and stretched. "So, Hyjal?"

Erylian shifted uneasily. "...Yes, I think so.. I have something to do there. Something has been waiting for me for a long time. Something I knew when I was alive." Erylian shrugged, unable to give anymore.

Inamedeath just broke out in a grin. "Alrighty! Off to Hyjal!" He pointed at Erylian. "Let's do this, man."

Erylian nodded and started weaving the portal, being a little more careful with coordinates this time. After a couple minutes and lots of flashing blue lights, in front of Erylian was what looked like a rip in the world surrounded with pale blue lights. Erylian gave an almost courtly gesture for Inamedeath to go through. "After you, good sir."

Inamedeath chuckled and murmured, "Oh sure, test the portal on the warlock. Never liked these things..." He stepped into it and disappeared. Sarenath was bouncing up and down on his heels.

"Me next?!" He exclaimed happily. Erylian just looked at him quizzically. Sarenath laughed louly and ran at the portal, going into it headfirst. "Wheeee!" An almost girly sound to come from a rogue.

Erylian just shook his head and stepped through and was happy to see that there was no trace of Nether energy this time. He landed on the grass on his feet, unlike Inamedeath who looked as if he had been dropped off a mountain. He was curled into a ball on the ground, shivering slightly. Sarenath was rolling on the ground next to him, laughing so hard his face was bright red. Erylian rushed over to Inamedeath's side.

"What happened?! Are you okay?" Erylian had a worried look on his face. Maybe the portal didn't accomidate...

Sarenath started sputtering out. "Came... out.. and... hit... him... in the... nuts..." then he went into another fit of laughter. Inamedeath groaned and curled into a tighter ball, his hands between his legs. Erylian's worried face slowly turned until he was laughing as well. Inamedeath leaned up slightly and murmured between clenched teeth, "Hate... both.. of you..", which only made them laugh harder. After a moment, Inamedeath caught his breath and started to stand up, with Erylian and Sarenath coming up shortly after. Erylian grinned.

"So is that now a part of the Adventures of Sarenath? A headbutt to your best friend's nuts?" Sarenath laughed and said in a low voice. "Kind of reminds me when..." A flash of purple energy flared and suddenly Sarenath found himself sputtering and hooting instead of talking. Inamedeath grinned.

"No Adventures of Sarenath... and that's how you pay. You'll be speaking Demonic for a month!" Erylian just laughed and started walking up the train, leaving the two idiots behind. Sarenath shook his head, muttering in Demonic as he follow Erylian and Inamedeath limped after, wincing each time he took a step.

Erylian stopped at the crumbled battlement again, remembering that flash of the Kirin Tor. There was something here he needed... He walked over to his tent and gestured access. He walked in and saw his tent, still unchanged from all those years ago. He walked over to his desk and shuffled his papers, then saw one that wasn't there before. A purple eye of the Kirin Tor was engraved on the paper and flashed an arcane purple. Once Erylian uncovered it the rune flared and a mage projected from the paper next to Erylian. She was a beautiful woman dressed in deep purple robes, shoulder pads arcing lightning between the small stalks. She said in a bell-like voice.

_"This message is to all mages. Our city Dalaran has now been reclaimed by us, the Kirin Tor. We are currently in Northrend above the Crystal Forest working against The Lich King. However a more pressing matter how become apparent: Our once-brother, Kael'thas, has taken from Illidan the power of the Skull of Gul'dan. Kael'thas is now using Tempest Keep and the rest of the Draeni ships to conquer Outland in the name of Quel'Thalas. Kael'thas has stated that when Outland is his that Azeroth is next. I am diverting all mages of all races from Kalimdor and the Eastern Kingdoms to Shattrath to fight against this threat. No mages can be spared from Northrend, so all of you must defeat Kael'thas and his Sunfury."_

A second mage walks into the message, and Erylian gasps. It's Simonee!

_"This mage Simonee will be leading the assault. He holds Atiesh and Sac-Raz. He has tamed two of the Artifacts of Dalaran and will command all mages in Shattrath. As a second to Rhonin, I hereby grant Simonee the title of High Magister, along with the respect and power that goes along with it." _

_"Thank you. My fellow mages and I will stop Kael'thas Sunstrider at all costs. You can count on me." Simonee bows his head and the projection ends._

Erylian steps out of the tent, the runed paper in his hand. Sarenath and Inamedeath are sitting outside, in a staring contest. Inamedeath breaks the stare to look at Erylian and curses.

"Damn! No fair, Erylian distracted me! Rematch..." He stops and looks at Erylian. "What's up?"

Erylian shakes his head slowly and explains the situation to Inamedeath and Sarenath, from Lightsworn up to Simonee swearing vengeance. Inamedeath whistles low.

"Wow. So... if Kael has the power of Gul'dan, AND he's the ONLY Bloodmage.. no, even with Simonee and Atiesh it won't work. Simonee's power is new, he doesn't know how to use it all yet. Kael will crush him." Inamedeath shakes his head.

Erylian just stands there with his arms crossed and murmurs softly. "Not even I could match Kael'thas now. We need something more..." Erylian's face suddenly lit up. "You're a warlock."

Inamedeath blinked. "Yeah. I thought we established that." He chuckled a little and looked at Erylian quizzically. "Why?"

Erylian grinned. "Show me your Enslave and Summoning spells." Inamedeath just blinked and said softly. "Okay..."

Inamedeath leaned down and started tracing his finger on the ground, leaving purple, sickly-looking energy behind. The rune looked like a jagged cut in a large circle with lines of power reaching out to different parts of the circle. He explained how the Nether controlled by a warlock controls a demon through this rune and how a demon or another warlock can break it.

Inamedeath then explained how demons were actually made of Nether on demand, rather than actual beings who are summoned. Only the original demons of the Burning Legion can summon other demons and are separate beings. These demons can bleed. He explained how a warlock can summon a being he made before, and how it is stored in a pocket of Nether energy made by the warlock.

Erylian just crossed his arms and watched carefully, making notes in his head. When Inamedeath was finished, Erylian shook his head and murmured. "Not going to work..." He walked away from Inamedeath and sighed. He took the page out of his pocket and went over the equations. He turned around and looked at Inamedeath.

"There is only one way we're going to be able to defeat Kael'thas. And for it... we're going to need a Blue Dragon." Erylian held up the page.

Inamedeath paled. "No Erylian... don't you know? Reports from Northrend say that Malygos and the Blue Dragonflight are hunting down spellcasters. They'll kill you, not help you!"

Erylian's jaw went rigid. "Then I suppose we're going to need to Enslave one. With the power of a Blue behind me, Simonee with Atiesh, and a thousand mages we might be able to defeat Kael'thas and his army." He paused and murmured, "But how does one get their hands on a Blue?"

Inamedeath just shook his head. "You're insane, Erylian. You're going to walk right into the mouth of a Blue dragon... Why don't you go ahead and go tell Onyxia I said hi, okay?" He walked away towards Sarenath, who shouted Demonic at him. Inamedeath just laughed and sat down.

Erylian looked at his tent and grinned a little. He went in and shuffled through his papers. Finally, he found what he was looking for. He walked up to Inamedeath and grinned.

"Andorgos." He said. Inamedeath just looked up at him.

"What?"

"Andorgos, Son of Malygos. I'm going to steal a dragon. You game?"

"G'kkkkkaarrrc!" Sarenath yelled a Demonic yes.

Inamedeath just shook his head. "This is going to be the end of me."

A/N: Ooo, a twist. That's right, Kael'thas now has Illidan's insanity and wants to rule the world! And Erylian wants.. a pet? Hmm.

I am really glad to finally be writing this. You can ask Python and Inamedeath's creator: I've been saying for months "Man, I gotta get goin on Life of Ruins...", but alas, I've been busy and lazy as hell. BUT! Python updated Trial By Fire, so I must, of course, update Life of Ruins. So everyone thank him for guilting me! Yay!

Til next time

Ikeris


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